


Quest For the Sun

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 19:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Deep in the Cascade Mountains, Blair is drawn into the adventure of a lifetime when he stumbles across an injured man.





	Quest For the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is a book fic based on The Moonspinners by Mary Stewart.

Blair Sandburg stood by the side of the road watching the big silver and blue bus pull away in a cloud of dust. He grabbed the canvas handles of his duffel and hoisted his backpack further up onto his shoulders before giving his body a wiggle until it settled comfortably against his back. He waved at the small girl whose face was pressed against the back window. With a grin, he waggled his fingers again when she returned the wave with enthusiasm, mouthing the words, "Bye, Blair!". 

Nice kid, he thought as he turned away, looking down the single-lane dirt track that stretched into the trees beside him. 

With a contented sigh, he looked around, drinking in the beauty surrounding him: the tall mountains with their craggy peaks still dusted with snow, along with the blue-green evergreens stretching as far as the eye could see. Adding to his happiness was the idea that he had a whole week before he had to return to his duties at Rainier University. A whole week to spend with his mother, whom he hadn't seen in six months. They'd hike and fish and talk and laugh together, something Blair had been looking forward to for the past six weeks when they first made plans to meet at a remote getaway deep in the Cascade Mountains. 

The camp, not for most city slickers, was a retreat for the body, mind and soul. Quiet, with minimal modern amenities such as cell phone access and television, it was the perfect place for Blair to recharge his batteries after a marathon run toward his doctorate. Six months of solid research, writing and meetings with his advisor were finally rewarded when he was granted his PhD just two weeks ago. Unfortunately, Naomi had been in the Amazon doing her own research on the rare orchids growing in the rain forest, busily preparing for her next book, and hadn't been able to attend the festivities following the formal presentation of his Doctorate in Anthropology. He'd missed her presence at the dinner that was given in his honor by his friends, his mentor and several faculty members whom he had impressed with his sharp intelligence and likable demeanor during his years at Rainier. 

Grinning at the thought of the recently-held gathering, he was equally excited about the reunion with Naomi, and she with him, he knew. They needed this; needed to reconnect as mother and son, and as friends. Every two years, since he'd left home to attend college at sixteen, they made it a point to take a small vacation together to become reacquainted after a long separation. Their time together was something they both enjoyed immensely. While each had busy lives, they enjoyed each other's company and were close. This year Blair was even more jubilant about this visit with his mother. He'd accomplished one of the major goals that he had set for himself when he was still in junior high: to have the letters 'D' and 'R' before his name. Now he was Dr. Blair Sandburg, and he was proud of his achievement. Together they would celebrate the auspicious occasion. 

A quick glance at his watch showed Blair that he had at least eight hours before sundown, plenty of time to hike for a while, and to enjoy the mountains before he would attempt to beg a bed for the night from the proprietors of the Glacier Mountain Retreat, his final destination. He hoped his early arrival wasn't too much trouble, and he was willing to camp out on the floor of the lodge, if necessary. 

Two days before, his plans had almost been canceled when his classic Corvair had thrown a rod and ended up in the repair shop for a week. With the repair bill looming before him, and without the immediate funds to rent a car, he had checked out the bus schedule. The nearest road to the retreat where the bus ran was Highway 493, and taking the bus was cool with him. However, other travelers must not feel that this mode of transportation was desirable because he discovered that the bus he needed ran every other day down his desired route. Rather than deep six his plans all together, or cut his visit with his mom short by waiting for the bus that would leave the day after next, he decided to risk heading to the retreat the day before he was expected instead of the day after, anxious not to lose almost two days of his vacation. 

Blair had tried to call the lodge to ask if an early arrival could be arranged, but discovered that the old phones had been knocked out by a recent violent thunderstorm, and weren't expected to be repaired for another week or so. And there was no cell service that far from civilization. Oh, the joys of remote living, he knew, having lived in some pretty out-of-the way places during some of his anthropological excursions. But being the adventurous sort, Blair decided to risk the trip early. If nothing else, he'd beg for a sleeping bag and crash on the veranda of the lodge or anywhere else that looked marginally habitable. He'd slept in a lot worse places during his expeditions, and a night outside didn't bother him in the least. It was late August, and the weather was still mild, although nights in the higher mountains could turn quite chilly. 

Blair turned down the lane, and started walking at a steady pace. Usually, the lodge sent a jeep to meet anyone who needed transportation, but since he wasn't expected, he was on his own. He knew that the lane traversed through the trees and across meadows for five or six miles before ending in front of the main log building of the retreat compound, but the miles were irrelevant to Blair. It was a beautiful late summer day. The sun shone brightly in the deep blue sky. White clouds streaked thin and wispy against the blue blanket, making designs in the sky. The air was clean and warm, and when he closed his eyes for a few steps, all was quiet. 

After walking for about forty-five minutes, Blair paused and turned in a circle. Standing in the center of a wide meadow, he admired the thousands of wild flowers that dotted the landscape. Every color of the rainbow appeared before his eyes, and he smiled widely, knowing how much Naomi would love this view. She loved the study of plants and had spent most of her life globe-trotting because of this love. With a grin, he knew he would make his mother proud as he stood and identified almost a dozen of the blooms before him. He'd spent many months as a child and teenager following his mother on her journeys and because of his desire for knowledge, his quick mind and his easy-going manner, he'd learned through her little lectures to him about ecology and all its phases. He still carried an admiration of flowers with him, and even now, as an adult, Naomi and beautiful flowers were entwined in his brain as one entity. With a chuckle, he moved on, picturing Naomi as a lily or an orchid or a daisy. 

The screech of a bald eagle brought Blair's head up from his reverie. His gaze sought out and found the dot soaring over the meadow, skimming the far edges in search of lunch, he was sure. His own belly rumbled in sympathy for the beautiful brown and white bird. He paused again to watch the eagle rise above the tall meadow grasses and disappear into the trees. His feet seemed to move of their own volition while his eyes followed the eagle's path. When he reached the edge of the tree line, he stopped yet again and listened. The eagle's cry reached his ears and when he looked upward, he saw the bird riding a thermal above the tree tops. Smiling, Blair watched the creature for a few minutes before he looked around and saw a trail leading into the forest, beckoning him into the cool shadows beneath the trees. With the sun almost straight up, he knew it was noon, and that he was hungry. The bagel he'd eaten at dawn was long gone, and he figured he might as well find a place to stop and eat the lunch he'd packed in the wee hours of the morning before he had caught his bus ride. A side trip into the woods was just what he needed. He'd find a place to eat and enjoy his solitude. 

Deciding to stow his duffel for retrieval after his exploration, Blair found a thicket of blackberry bushes and shoved the brown bag into the brambles, avoiding the thorns that threatened to snag his cloths and scratch his hands. Satisfied that it was hidden from view, and snorting at the idea that somebody would actually come along in this remote place to steal his few belonging, he rose and hiked his backpack onto his shoulders. He followed the trail that beckoned him as it snaked between towering pines, his footsteps silent on the thick blanket of pine needles that covered the ground. 

\-------------------------------

Occasionally, there was a break in the trees and Blair would pause, looking toward the heavens to search for his eagle. Several times he spied the large bird coasting on the thermal updrafts, turning in long, lazy circles as it rode the waves of wind. After about half an hour, the trail, which wound gently upward, opened at the edge of a good-size mountain stream. Stones were set in a pattern, obviously man-made, making a bridge across the cascading water, inviting the hiker across. Blair couldn't resist hopping from stone to stone and carefully made his way to the opposite bank, where the trail once again wound upwardly and disappeared around a bend. 

Blair stood for a moment, thinking that this might be a good place to stop for his rest, but after a quick glance around, he didn't see a nice, flat, dry rock on which to perch. The ground here was damp from the many animals who came to drink. Tracks in the mud showed this to be a busy highway for the creatures of the forest, so he decided to leave the trail and follow the stream up to a better place for his rest. There were plenty of rocks along the stream's banks, and he was sure he could find a place to sit. Maybe if he climbed high enough, he would be able to see the eagle again, and perhaps pick out the chimney of the retreat's lodge. 

Carefully clambering over rocks and downed trees, he climbed a short while before he found the perfect place. The stream had widened at this point, and a fallen log allowed the water to form a still pool about five feet across. There were several rocks above the edge of the pool, making a dry ledge. 

"Perfect," Blair said aloud, almost startled by the sound of his own voice after the solitude of the mountains. With a grin and a shrug, he dropped his backpack on the ground and went to the edge of the pool. Kneeling down, he dipped his hand into the crystal clear, cold water. Blair raised his hand to his lips, tasting the clean water. He knew he shouldn't, with water-borne intestinal diseases like Giardia a possibility, but he couldn't resist just a taste. Licking his fingers, he sighed happily and sat at the edge, legs crossed. He reached for his backpack and drew it close, taking out a bottle of water. Snapping the seal, he unscrewed the top and drank deeply. Finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet. When he opened his eyes, the pool was still as a mirror and he leaned forward slightly, looking at his reflection in the water. Wisps of his hair, which was tied back, had escaped, framing his face. He absentmindedly tried to comb the wild tendrils back, peering into the still pool. That was when he saw... Startled, he blinked and looked again. Sure enough, a face, a black man's face, was really there, peering down at him from above, partially hidden behind a thick line of brush. 

Blair's head snapped around quickly. Behind him the ground rose sharply upward. The stream had cut a canyon of sorts over the years, and while the bottom of the canyon was about twenty feet across, the walls on both sides were steep at this point of the creek's journey. He stared intently at the spot where he had seen the man's face, holding his breath. Nothing stirred but the leaves dancing on the breeze. All was quiet save for the chirping of some birds from the other side of the stream. He waited for many minutes before he turned back and muttered, "Eat some lunch, Blair. You're hungry enough to be hallucinating." 

Unable to help himself, he once again glanced into the water, expecting to see nothing. He was shocked when he saw the face reappear. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He was being watched. Blair jumped up and turned, his gaze latching onto the exact spot where the face had been. Again, it was gone, but now Blair knew he wasn't seeing things. There was definitely somebody watching him. He could feel it in his bones. 

"Maybe he's just another hiker, or a hunter, or fisherman," Blair told himself aloud. "You're not the only one who likes the forest." 

But still, an uneasiness crept over his body. Another hiker would have hailed him at least, even if company hadn't been something he or she had desired. A wave and a call would have immediately assuaged Blair's trepidation, but this – stalking made him decidedly uncomfortable. Hunger gone, he decided to move along. This serene place had lost its appeal. 

Blair zipped his backpack closed and lifted it to his shoulders. He glanced up at the spot again, and saw nothing. With a shrug, he turned away and started his upward trek along the creek, following the tumbling water, hoping that his leaving would let his watcher know that he intended no harm. He quickly climbed through the narrow gully into a more open area. With a glance around and a sigh of relief, Blair shrugged off the encounter and started his trek along another small footpath. He saw deer and elk spoor, and the occasional print of a raccoon or fox. Walking quickly, he had just decided to again stop, this time in a bit of a clearing in which he found himself. He let his backpack slip from his shoulders, and looked around. That's when he saw a cabin huddled in the trees. 

Curious as usual, he stood for a moment and studied the cabin. Perhaps this is where his shadow had been lodged? But the place looked deserted from here. There were no windows; the squares in the face of the front wall were dark and uninviting. The door hung brokenly askew, and the roof was caved in along one side. The place hadn't been used for many years, he realized. His watcher momentarily forgotten, and thinking that the old cabin was some place possibly used by early trappers or hunters, or even by a stranded party traveling by wagon train a hundred and fifty years ago, he started forward, intent on exploring. 

\---------------------------------

The attack happened swiftly. One moment he was walking toward the cabin, the next, he was flat on his stomach, a large weight pressing against his back. Slammed onto the ground, Blair's breath was knocked from his body and he lay still, momentarily stunned. Regaining his wits, his first thought was that a bear or mountain lion had gotten him. Hoping that playing dead would prevent an attack, he forced himself to remain still, holding his breath, for a long moment, but when no teeth bit into his body and no growls reached his ears, he started to struggle. Hands grabbed at his clothing. His arms flailed and his legs kicked. He cried out, his struggles escalating when it finally hit home that he was being attack by a real, live person. Wiggling and kicking frantically, he felt the back of his heel connect with something solid. The attacker let out a grunt of pain and the weight lifted for a moment. Blair scrambled forward, finding purchase with his hands and knees, but his escape was short-lived. 

A hand grabbed his ankle. Quickly, Blair rolled over, kicking out. "Let me go!" he shouted. "Get away from me!" His gaze latched onto his attacker. The same black face he'd seen in the pool was attached to a very large body. The man's hands reached for him, grabbing both of his ankles and pressing them to the ground. Blair immediately sat up, his fists pounding into the man's face. "Let me go!" he screamed, pummeling the face ferociously. 

With a shout of pain, the man released his ankles, giving Blair only a moment to kick him yet again, this time in the stomach. His attacker let out a loud "oomph", but surprisingly, the kick didn't slow him down. He rose, towering over Blair, who scrambled to his feet. He turned and ran, but within a few steps, was easily overtaken by his attacker's larger stride. A thick arm wrapped around his neck and another around his waist. He was hauled up, and the arm around his neck tightened. Feet dangling, Blair frantically twisted and kicked, his arms pinned down by the beefy arm wrapped around his body. With his throat clamped shut, he let out a strangled gasp. Spots started to flit before his eyes and his world began spinning. His kicks lessened and just before he passed out from lack of oxygen, he hit the ground in a heap. 

\--------------------------------- 

Blair lay still, his breath coming in gasps. When his breathing finally settled, he heard two voices, both men, as they argued over him. 

"For God's sake, Simon. What the hell did you do?" 

"Saved your ass," came the grumbled reply. 

"You almost killed him!" Silence fell before Blair heard this same voice call out, "Are you okay?" Blair ignored the voice, which again called, "Buddy? Chief?" before he said, "Simon, help him." 

"Come on, Jim!" his attacker said. "He might –” 

"Now," ordered the helpful voice, obviously "Jim". 

Hands grabbed Blair's shoulders. He shrugged them off. "Get the fuck away from me." 

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, buddy. I won't hurt you," the deeper voice (the helpful "Simon", his brain sarcastically supplied). "At least, not right now," he warned. 

"Oh, goodie," Blair groused. He blinked and turned, sitting on his butt on the ground. He unconsciously brushed the dirt from his jacket and ran a dusty hand through his now equally dusty hair. He yanked out several leaves and twigs, angrily throwing them to the ground before he rose and dusted off his backside. Blair's gaze found the source of the other voice, Jim. His anger vanished immediately at what he saw. 

Jim was an absolute disaster. His clothes were filthy. The denim shirt he wore was torn and the right arm was covered with mud. His jeans were also dirty, and his Timberland hiking boots were crusted with mud. His face was dirty and his hair was covered with bits of leaves and twigs. His face was a pasty white and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken. From the look on the man's face, Blair could see that he was obviously in pain. 

"Are you okay?" Blair asked, taking a step closer to Jim. Simon let out a growl and stepped between them. 

"Simon! Please," Jim pleaded. His voice, which had been so forceful a few moments ago when he'd ordered Simon to back off, was now very weak. 

With a curt nod at Blair and a final glare of warning – to what end, Blair wasn't quite sure – Simon stepped away. Blair gave the man a disgusted glance and walked over to where Jim leaned against the doorframe of the tumbled-down cabin. 

"Oh, man... You've been hurt!" Now that Blair was closer, he could see that much of the dark crust on Jim's clothing was not mud, but blood. His shirt was stiff with it, especially on his right arm. "What happened?" Blair reached Jim and stretched out a hand to inspect the source of the blood. 

"I'm okay," Jim responded, grabbing Blair's hand midair. 

Their eyes met. Blair froze for a long moment before he whispered, "Let me help you." 

Jim's gaze never left his. "It's too danger- No. Thanks, but no. You go on..." Jim's eyes closed and he started to sink. 

Simon's wide shoulder shoved Blair aside easily. "Can't you see he's done in?" He grabbed Jim as he fainted and easily hauled the man back into the cabin, laying him on a dusty pile of leaves and brush that was covered with an equally dirty piece of canvas, full of rips and tears. 

"What the hell is going on? Why haven't you taken him for help? Why haven't you gone for help if he can't make it? There's a retreat not far from here where you could have gotten help!" Blair demanded, falling to his knees beside the unconscious man. "Are you an idiot or what?" 

Simon's eyes narrowed. "Now you listen here, buddy. This is none of your business. I'm handling it." 

"Yeah, right," Blair snapped. "Looks like it. He looks hurt and sick and you're doing such a great job." Blair touched Jim's forehead. "Great. He's burning up. Probably an infection from your tender, loving care. Not to mention dehydration and God knows what else." Raising his head, Blair's gaze met Simon's. "Go and get my backpack." 

"Fuck you." 

"Are you stupid as well as dumb? I have water and food and a first aid kit. It's obvious – Jim's on his last leg. Do you want him to die?" Blair demanded, forcing Simon's gaze to hold his. "Well?" he asked when Simon's only response was to glare at Blair. 

Without another word, Simon rose and stalked away, returning momentarily with Blair's backpack. 

"Thanks," Blair said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his tone as he took the proffered bag. Digging out the first aid kit and a blue packet, he also removed a fresh bottle of drinking water. 

"What's that?" Simon asked suspiciously, pointing at the blue packet Blair placed on one of his clean shirts that he'd spread on the ground where he arranged the rest of his supplies. 

"Pre-moistened disposable towels. Why? You think I'm going to poison the guy or something?" 

Simon remained silent, making Blair give a small "harrumph" before he returned to his work. Carefully, with a small pair of folding scissors he carried with his supplies, he cut away the blood-encrusted shirt sleeve. "Good God! This rag is filthy!" he said sharply, untying the offending item that had been wrapped around the upper part of Jim's arm. Blair gave it a distasteful glance before tossing it away. 

"It's a piece of my shirt. We didn't have anything else." 

"Whatever," Blair answered, his attention diverted by Jim's wound. He gently touched the damaged flesh. He could see that there was a large gash along Jim's arm, spanning at least four inches. The skin was black and blue above and below the gash, and blood had crusted on the wound enough to obscure the depth of the injury. "I need some clean water. Do you think you can manage to find something to go to the stream and get water so I can clean the wound?" 

"What about the bottled water?" Simon asked, waving at the bottles Blair had taken from his pack. "Can't you use that?" 

Blair gave the man another disgusted glance. Obviously, Simon was afraid to leave Jim alone with him. With an exasperated sigh, he explained, "No, that's for drinking. Jim needs fluids in him when he wakes up, and I don't want to risk giving him water from the stream." At Simon's confused face, Blair sighed again. "Mountain water, while usually clean, can cause intestinal problems sometimes. Giardia being the most common. He doesn't need that kind of illness in his condition." 

"Oh... Okay. I've got a canteen. I'll get you some water." Simon rose and left without any more protest. 

Blair shook his head, making small "tsk" sounds. "Man, this looks awful." Bending down, Blair inspected the wound as best he could. The light in the dark cabin was poor, so he shifted until a bit of light from the open door fell on Jim's body. The wound looked nasty, but he didn't see any immediate signs of infection. He leaned closer and sniffed lightly. Not smelling anything sour or foul, all he could assume from outward appearances was that the wound didn't appear infected. "God only knows what's going on inside you, Jim." 

A shadow fell across the door, and for a moment Blair started before he recognized Simon's large shape. "Got it." He set down a very battered pot on the ground beside Blair. At Blair's raised eyebrow, he explained, "I found it beside the cabin near an old pile of branches. I figured it would be easier to soak a cloth in. I filled the canteen also." 

"Good. Now all we need to do is boil the water. I have matches –” 

"No!" Simultaneous with Simon's outburst, Jim's voice added his own "no!". 

Blair started, his gaze latching onto Jim's face. "You're awake! Take it easy," he said firmly, putting a hand against Jim's chest when he tried to rise. "Why the hell not?" he groused. "You need that wound cleaned, and for that we need hot water. What's going on? Are you running from the law?"

"No!" Jim said firmly. "No. In fact, I'm a cop. And so is Simon." At Blair's incredulous look, he nodded to Simon, "Show him." 

Blair saw Simon give an unhappy shake of his head, clearly projecting his disapproval of Jim's reluctant acceptance of Blair's presence, but he didn't protest further. Simon reached into his back pocket and thrust his identification into Blair's hand, where he read the name and rank before he nodded and returned the ID. "And Jim?" 

"Detective, also with Major Crime," Simon supplied. 

Blair looked carefully from Simon to Jim before he slowly nodded. He could almost smell the apprehension that filled the air as Jim and Simon looked at each other. His instincts told him that the men were truthful, but something had them both spooked very badly. And it had something to do with Jim's injury. Wondering exactly what caused it and almost afraid to ask in case he was answered and the answer wasn't good, he swallowed before he said, "Okay. Let's get this arm cleaned up. We'll make do with cold water." 

Jim nodded. "Simon..." He glanced at his friend and after a few moments of silent communication, Simon rose and left. 

Blair watched the exchange and the words not spoken aloud were very clear to him. Go and keep watch. He stared through the open door at Simon's retreating back before he bit his lip, sure now that there was some sort of danger surrounding the two men, and returned to his duties. 

\--------------------------

Soaking a bandanna he'd found in his pack in the water, Blair laid the wet material on the wound. Jim hissed with pain when the area was touched. "Sorry, man. I'm trying to be gentle." 

Clear blue eyes closed before opening and looking directly into his own troubled eyes. "It's okay. Thanks." 

"I'm Blair, by the way. Blair Sandburg." 

"Jim Ellison." 

"Do you want to tell me how you were hurt?" Blair removed the material after a minute and rinsed out the bandanna. Again, he covered the injury with the wet cloth, allowing the water to soak into the dried blood, rinsing and soaking two or three more times until the gunk started to dissolve away from the wound. Leaning closely, Blair gently blotted the damaged skin while Jim lay very still and tense, his fists clenched. "Hurt?" 

"No," Jim lied. 

Blair chuckled. "Yeah, right." He wiped away more of the dirt and blood before he sucked in a quick breath. He knew a bullet wound when he saw it, and this was definitely one of them. "It looks painful." 

Jim finally nodded. "I've been hurt plenty of times and a hell of a lot more severely, but this... I've never felt such pain before," he finally admitted. 

"Just relax. Listen. Close your eyes and count your breaths." 

"What?" 

"It's a relaxation technique. It will calm you and make you feel better. It can control pain. It's like this... Watch me. Breathe in to the count of four." Blair closed his eyes and softly said, "Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three four. Now you try it." Jim looked skeptical until Blair said, "It can't hurt, Jim. Just try it. Close your eyes and I'll count with you." 

Jim finally nodded and closed his eyes, but after a few seconds, he complained, "I feel stupid." 

"Just try it," Blair coaxed gently. 

With another nod, as Blair counted aloud in a soft, monotone voice, Jim did the relaxation pattern. After three or four sets, Blair could see Jim's body relax and knew he was mentally keeping count himself. He smiled and returned to finish cleaning Jim's arm. With Jim's rhythmic breathing sounding loud in the small, dusty space, Blair cleaned the wound as well as he could. With gentle fingers, he used several butterfly strips to close the gaping flesh before he applied a thick layer of antibiotic cream, then wrapped the arm in clean gauze and taped it securely with waterproof tape. 

"How's that feel?" Blair asked. 

Jim's eyes were closed, and when he didn't respond to Blair's inquiry, Blair became concerned. "Jim?" He touched Jim's shoulder gently.

"Wha...? Oh, sorry, Chief. I was..." Jim gave a small shrug. 

"You were zoning yourself." 

Looking puzzled, Jim raised an eyebrow. "Zoning myself?" 

"Yeah. You put yourself in a kind of a trance. You were concentrating so hard on your breathing, you zoned out. That's okay. Learning to zone is a good skill to have. It helps control pain, among other things." Blair smiled and touched Jim's lower arm. "You did well tuning out the pain while you let yourself relax. It's a skill that some people take a long time to learn, but you caught on right away. You must do a lot of meditating." 

Jim smiled, making Blair smile in return. "Thanks. It feels a lot better." 

"It needs stitches, you know. You need a doctor and a hospital, Jim." When Jim remained silent, Blair asked, ""Are you hungry?" 

"Starved!" 

"I have some lunch I packed at home. Not much... Peanut butter and jelly. A couple of oranges, some trail mix... Oh, I have some chocolate too." 

"Anything to drink?" Jim asked wistfully. 

Blair grinned. "I have just the thing." He remembered the bottle of juice he'd stuffed in the side pocket of his pack on the way out of his apartment this morning, and had forgotten to drink on his bus trip. "Do you like apple juice?" 

Jim nodded. "Sounds great." When he tried to sit up, he gave a grunt. "Ouch. Damn it." 

"Let me help." Setting the bottle down, Blair slipped an arm behind Jim's shoulders and helped him sit up before he unscrewed the cap. "Take small sips. We don't want you getting sick." 

"I'm good, Chief." 

"Here, take these." 

Jim sipped the juice, eyeing Blair's outstretched hand. "What are they?" 

"Tylenol, silly. Do you think I'd poison you?" 

Jim's gaze met Blair's. "No," he said seriously. "I trust you." 

Blair nodded and smiled. "Cool." He watched while Jim's fingertips brushed against the skin on his hand. The fingers seemed to hover for a moment, touching his palm before they picked up the pills. While Jim swallowed the pills, followed by a gulp of juice, Blair watched the strong throat muscles ripple. The man was quite attractive, in spite of the dirty clothes and face. "Say..." Blair cleared his throat. "How about we give your face and hands a wash?" 

"Okay. Sure." 

Blair opened the packet of towelettes and peeled one off. He gently wiped Jim's face, cleaning away the worst of the grime. Jim's eyes closed, making Blair smile. "Feel – okay?" 

"Yeah," Jim answered. "I need a shower." 

"Why don't you...?" Blair's words trailed away as he took another towelette and wiped each of Jim's hands and lower arms. 

"What?" 

"I can go for help, Jim." 

"No." 

"Why not? You're obviously in no condition to walk very far. You need help!" 

"Drop it. In fact, you'd better get out of here. I don't want you to be missed by your – friends." 

"I'm not going to be missed! Why don't you –” 

"You need to leave. It's not –” 

When Jim clamped his lips together and looked away, Blair put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "It's not what, Jim? Not safe?" 

Jim nodded. "Just go. Thanks for the help. I'll be fine." 

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on." 

Jim's face grew cold. "For God's sake! Get the hell out of here!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Now!" 

"What's going on?" Simon's voice seemed loud to Blair's ears as it echoed off the walls of the small cabin. 

"Nothing!" Blair said firmly. "Jim's being pigheaded, that's all." 

"Escort our helpful friend out of here, Simon," Jim said. "Make sure he finds his way to the road. Now, before...." His eyes closing, Jim bit his lip and shivered. 

"Come on," Simon said, reaching for Blair. "Time you hit the road." 

"He's sick! Look at him!" Blair rose, standing close to Simon. "He needs help!"

"No." Simon said firmly. 

Blair threw out his arms. "Fine! What a couple of stupid, hard-headed... I'm going! At least keep the water and food. Here... Here's a jacket. Jim's shivering. I think he's running a fever. At least put this around him!" Blair threw the jacket at Simon, who caught it in a large hand. "I'm so out of here." He stomped out of the cabin, across the clearing, and down the path. 

He'd walked for a few minutes before he realized that Simon was following him. He turned and glared at the man. "Why are you following me?" 

"Just making sure you're okay." 

"Yeah, right." Blair snorted and turned away. Simon's footsteps were right behind him when Blair spun around. "What? You're going to take care of me now? He's not near enough to stop you." 

"What?" Simon asked, clearly confused. 

"Kill me. Get rid of me so that I don't go and tell – whoever about me seeing you and Jim." 

"No! I... I'm sorry about – earlier. You know, when I..." Simon shifted. "I wouldn't hurt you, except... I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"You were protecting him." Simon nodded. "You and he are... close." 

With a startled look, Simon shook his head. "Not that kind of close!" 

"Hey, don't get all touchy with me. I didn't try to kill you, in case you've forgotten. It was the other way around." 

"I said I was sorry. I didn't know..." 

Blair shrugged, tired of the exchange. "It's okay. Your secret's safe with me. Both of yours." 

"Thanks... ah..." 

"Blair Sandburg." 

"Thanks, kid. I appreciate what you did for Jim." 

Blair was surprised at his sudden reluctance to leave. He knew he wasn't wanted, but for some reason, he had to help Jim Ellison, a man he'd just met. With a sigh and a rub of his eyes, he asked, "Simon, why haven't you gone for help? Jim needs a hospital. He's lost a good amount of blood and that arm needs to be stitched up. Not to mention tetanus and infection –” 

"Don't you think I know that?" he growled. 

"Then tell me," Blair said persuasively. He watched the struggle on the strong face while Simon fought with himself over whether or not to trust Blair. While Blair waited impatiently, he dug through his backpack and found a chocolate bar and another bottle of water. He held them out to Simon. 

"Just how much stuff do you have in that backpack?" Simon asked, accepting the offering. 

"Enough," Blair answered with a chuckle. "It's all my mother's fault. Always be prepared was her motto." 

"I thought that was the Boy Scout motto." 

"It's my mom's also, and she's no Boy Scout. Trust me on that." 

Simon finally gave Blair a quick smile before he nervously glanced around. "Let's not stop here." At Blair's nod, Simon led the way. At a spot he must have liked, Simon pushed aside a large bush and slipped around another. Blair followed his steps while Simon climbed up along the creek and finally threw himself down on the ground behind a large stand of brush. 

Blair looked over the line of brush and saw the stream and the pool where he'd stopped earlier twenty feet below. He knew that this was the place where Simon had hidden himself and watched him when he first saw his face. The pool was still as glass, and from where Blair now stood, he could picture Simon peering down at him. While Simon ate the chocolate bar and drank the water Blair had given him, Blair examined Simon's perch. 

The ledge was wide and flat, no more than ten feet across. The brush grew in such a way that from below, Blair knew that the ledge was hidden. Someone could hide here and a hiker walking below would never realize that this secluded perch was here. The large boulders and a huge dead tree comprised the back wall of the hiding place, offering a bit of shelter from the midday sun or a sudden rain shower. Bunches of wildflowers clung to the bits of earth between the boulders, and moss grew on the downed tree. Blair sat down, cross-legged, next to Simon and with more patience than he usually had, he remained still until Simon started to speak. 

"I haven't gone for help yet because... I couldn't leave Jim alone until today." 

"What happened?" 

With a sigh, Simon rubbed his eyes. "We were camping about six miles east near Big Fork River, fly fishing. Jim and Steven –” 

"Wait. Hold on. Steven?" 

"Yeah," Simon said tiredly. "Steven, Jim's younger brother. He's... gone." 

"Gone? I'm lost. Start at the beginning." 

Simon nodded, his fatigue clearly etched in his face. "The three of us were camping. Been in the woods for about a week when Jim and Steven decided to follow a flock of turkeys one morning. You know, messing around. They went off with just a hunting knife between them. Jim brought his service piece, but like me, when we're camping or fishing, we keep them locked in a footlocker in the truck cab." Simon shrugged. "We're both idiots... Anyway, I stayed in camp... I had the misfortune to get some poison ivy on my... backside. And don't laugh!" 

"I won't," Blair promised, grinning. "So...?" 

"So they left and I fished. It was about noon when I went back to camp and they hadn't returned. I waited for another hour, then another. By late afternoon, I was frantic. I built a huge fire so that Jim would be able to smell it from a long ways away and –” 

"Why would he be able to smell it from far away?" 

"Jim has... better than average senses." 

Blair's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Interesting." Filing away this bit of news, he prompted, "Go on." 

"I didn't know what had happened to them. I began to envision all sorts of things... Bears. Cougars. Maybe a hunter shooting them both thinking they were game. I didn't know, so I waited until I couldn't stand it any longer and I started looking for them. It got dark and I stumbled back to camp. The next morning, still no Jim or Steven. That's when I knew something bad had happened.

"I set out early to look for them. It took me almost the entire day before I found..." Simon hung his head. "I thought Jim was dead. He was lying in the center of a damned logging road! Anybody could have found him. Thankfully, whoever did this to him hadn't come back – yet. He'd been lying there all night, bleeding, but at least he was breathing. 

"I carried him through the woods until I found that cabin, and I tried to stop the bleeding. He was cold as ice so I rubbed him with my hands until his skin started to feel warm and then I got water from the creek and tried to clean his wound. I used the hem of my shirt for a bandage. I didn't start a fire because..." Simon shrugged at Blair's raised eyebrow. "Cop instinct," he answered. "I just knew. When Jim finally came to, he told me what happened. So it was a good thing I didn't start a fire. With Steven gone..." Simon sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

"God, Simon, it sounds awful! What do you think happened to his brother?" 

Simon's dark eyes met Blair's, full of sadness. "I don't know. I finally left Jim alone for a bit this morning to search, but I didn't see any trace of him. Then you came along, and I knew it wasn't safe. If Jim had stumbled out to look for Steven, if you'd been – one of them, they would have finished the job." 

"Oh, God. Poor Jim! He must be worried sick!" 

"Tell me about it. He's been beside himself. That whole first day after I found him, when he came to, he had a fever from the exposure. He tried to get up and to go and look for Steven every time my back was turned. He could barely walk, but he wouldn't listen to reason. I think he was a bit – out of it anyway. I finally went to the creek for water and when I came back, he'd crawled down the trail. I was afraid if I left him, he'd stumble into the forest and then... I'd never find him… alive." 

"So you couldn't leave him to even go back to your camp for supplies," Blair stated. "I understand. It was too risky." 

"Yeah. It wasn't until this morning that he was calm enough to listen to me. He had a nasty bump on the head, so I don't think he even realized it was me most of the time until he woke this morning. I told him I'd look for Steven, but only if he stayed put. But he's frantic to find him. I know he's terrified that he's... dead." Simon stopped to clear his throat. 

"But you still haven't told me who shot Jim?" 

"Shot? You could tell...? It's not safe for you, Sandburg. These people don't care who they kill." 

"What did Jim tell you about what happened? Who did this?" Blair demanded. 

Blair watched Simon scrutinize him for a good two minutes before he huffed out a shaky breath. "He said they followed the turkeys for a couple of miles, you know, pretending they were stalking them like hunters with bows and arrows. Jim was in Peru. He can actually hunt with a bow and arrow. Anyway, they weren't paying much attention, but then who figures they'd stumble across a murder in the middle of the Cascade National Forest." 

"Murder?" 

"Yeah. They came around a bend on an old logging road and there were three men and a woman standing over the body of a fourth man. Jim and Steven didn't see them until it was too late. Jim says he saw the rifles and the dead guy, but he didn't even have a chance to warn Steven before one of the group happened to look up and see them. He let out a shout; they raised their rifles and fired. It happened so fast! Jim shoved Steven aside and that's when he was hit. He said it was a good thing he turned to push Steven away, or he'd have taken the bullet right in the chest." Simon swallowed hard before he continued. "Jim said he felt the bullet rip through his arm and his senses- Ah, he kind of fainted. He stumbled a few feet, and fell down the side of the road. He rolled down the embankment and smacked his head on a rock. That was the last thing he remembered until he woke in the middle of the night. He was cold and bleeding, but managed to drag himself back up to the road. Jim said it took him until sunrise, but when he looked for Steven's body... When he looked for Steven, he couldn't find him. He did find... blood. Steven's blood, so now he's beside himself with worry. He says Steven's not dead, but... I don't know." 

"When was this?" 

"Three days ago." 

"No wonder he's in such bad shape, with no medical attention and exposure to the elements." 

"You need to be on your way. If you're missed, and they start looking, there's chance that they could find Jim." 

"Who is 'they'? You're talking like this is some big conspiracy." 

Simon looked thoughtful. "It's possible. I mean, the only other people around here for a hundred square miles are the folks who run that retreat. Otherwise, it's pretty isolated out here. No houses; nothing. Somebody over there has to be involved." 

Blair considered for a moment before he said, "Why couldn't it just be some hunters? Or maybe a gang of drug runners hiding out?" 

Simon shrugged. "Anything's possible. But that doesn't matter. You need to be on your way." 

"No." 

"No?"

"Listen. This doesn't make a bit of sense! I can't leave you and Jim out here with no supplies, no blankets. I can't waltz into the retreat and gather up a bunch of supplies without being asked why. Right?" Simon reluctantly nodded. "And even with directions, it would take me longer to find your camp than it would for you to return to it. Right?" Blair glared until Simon nodded again. "So, the only logical thing to do is for you to go to your camp and get your supplies. You have food and blankets, don't you?" 

"Yeah," Simon answered slowly. 

"And you have your weapons at camp. You go and get all the supplies you can carry, and I'll stay with Jim and keep an eye on him for you." Simon started to shake his head. "Look. I'm a day early. I'm not meeting my mother until tomorrow, and in fact, I don't even have a bed for tonight. The bus..." Blair waved a hand. "It's a long story, but it's perfect! Nobody's expecting me. I won't be missed at all. I'll stay with Jim while you go for supplies. You know that Jim's too weak to be moved. He needs a hot meal and a sleeping bag, at the very least. Then after a day or two, he could possibly be well enough to hike back to your camp." Blair stopped and let his suggestion sink in. 

"I don't know... Jim won't like it." 

"What about his brother? He won't leave here without knowing, will he? One way or the other..." 

"True." 

"So this is the perfect solution." 

"Yeah, right. Perfect," Simon groused before he fell silent for a moment. His gaze was serious when he finally said, "By the time I hike back to camp, it will be dark. I won't be able to start back out until sunrise." 

Blair shrugged, grinning. "I'm all yours, man," he said, spreading his arms wide and giving Simon the most innocent, friendly look he could muster. 

Simon glared for a moment before he snorted with amusement. "You are a piece of work, Sandburg." 

"Thanks." 

Simon rose and waited for Blair to get to his feet. He held out his hand, which Blair took and they shook. "Thank you. From Jim and Steven and me." 

"You're welcome. Now let's get this show on the road. We're burning daylight." When Simon rolled his eyes, Blair just laughed. 

\------------------------------

"Okay," Jim said tiredly. "I don't have the energy to argue, but I still think the idea sucks." 

Simon nodded. "I don't like it either, but what else can we do? He seems like an okay guy." 

Jim's voice was weak when he said, "Yeah, I think so, too." 

Blair stepped through the open doorway where he'd been leaning on the outside wall and walked over to them. "Guys, I'm right here, you know." 

Simon shook his head. "Sandburg, are you always this – exasperating?" 

Blair shrugged. "Yeah, probably. So are you going to get out of here or what?" 

"I'm going." As Simon walked by Blair, he said quietly, "Keep an eye on him." 

"I will. I promise." 

"Good man. I'll be back as quick as I can." 

"Be careful." With a nod, Simon left. Blair turned back to Jim, who lay on the pile of brush with his eyes closed. Blair carefully walked over to the side of the pallet and looked down at his patient. 

"I'm awake," Jim said tiredly. 

"I was hoping you were resting, maybe getting some sleep." 

"I can't." 

Blair knelt beside Jim. "I know. You're worried about Steven." 

Jim's eyes flew open. "What did he say?" 

"He told me what happened." 

Jim let out an irritated sigh. "He shouldn't have told you." 

"He had to. I want to help and Simon knew you both needed somebody to lend a hand. So he told me. But don't worry, I won't say anything." Jim's gaze met Blair's. Blair could see the deep worry lines around his eyes and how his mouth was tight with pain and unhappiness. Finally, Jim shifted uneasily on the brush, releasing a cloud of dust. Blair sneezed. "Sorry." 

"It's okay, Chief." Jim's eyes closed for a moment before he opened them and asked, "Isn't somebody expecting you? If you're missed and somebody comes looking..." 

"I explained to Simon that I came a day early. It's a long story, but it involves car trouble and a long bus ride. So it's worked out just right." 

"Yeah, just right," Jim said derisively. "Now you're in danger, too. Great cop I've turned out to be." 

"Jim, man," Blair said sympathetically, "it's not your fault... about what happened... your brother and all." 

"Whose is it then?" he asked bitterly. "He's my younger brother. He always looked up to me and trusted me. It was- is my job to protect him!" 

"Hey. Settle down." When he saw Jim shiver, Blair moved closer. He tucked the jacket he'd tossed at Simon earlier, and which Simon had laid on Jim's shoulders, tighter around his body. "I wish you'd let me build a fire." 

"No. It's too dangerous." 

"But you're freezing!" 

"I'll be fine." 

"Okay. Okay. How about something to eat?" 

"Yeah, okay. But would you do me a – favor?" 

"Sure." 

"I hate to ask..." 

"Jim, just ask." 

"My feet feel like lead weights. Would you loosen up the laces a bit? I haven't taken off the boots in three days." 

"That's it? Geez, man, I think I can handle it." Blair knelt down at the end of the pallet and loosened the ties on Jim's brown hiking boots. "If we had a fire, I could take them off. Maybe –” 

"No fire!" 

"Okay. Calm down." After doing as requested, he peeled one of the oranges he'd left earlier and fed it to Jim in sections. He ate the first few pieces with a bit of an appetite, but by the fourth section, his interest quickly waned and he refused the fifth. 

"You need to drink more of this water, Jim. Come on." With his coaxing, Jim managed to drink about six ounces before he sighed tiredly and shook his head, refusing more. "Sleep, man. You need to rest." 

While Jim lay with his eyes closed, Blair ate a handful of trail mix, drank a few sips of water and finished the rest of the orange. He walked to the doorway and looked out, listening to the sounds of the forest as dusk fell. He heard the skittering of a night hunter and the first calls of an owl. Turning back to Jim, he walked over to where his companion lay and looked down at the injured man. He wrapped his arms around his own chest, the night air already turning chilly. He'd have killed for a sleeping bag about now. 

In the waning light, he saw Jim's eyes open. He stood while Jim carefully examined him for a few moments before he said, "Chief, why don't you..." 

Blair waited, but when Jim didn't finish his thought, but continued to stare, he finally asked, "What?" 

"Lie down." 

"What?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm cold. You're cold. Lie down next to me. Or are you – worried I might hurt you." 

"No! I'm not... It's just that... Never mind." Blair did as he was bidden, lying down on the dusty pallet, sneezing again. 

"Bless you," Jim said. 

"Excuse me. Thanks, man. Why don't you turn to your good side and I'll kind of – get close. You know, to – ah, keep warm," Blair said, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

Jim didn't seem to think Blair's suggestion was strange because he turned to his left side, signaling Blair to move closer. Blair huffed out a shaky breath and pressed his body against Jim's length. Jim's backside rested against his crotch, making Blair shift unconsciously closer. 

"Lift up your head," Blair instructed. When Jim complied, Blair slipped his arm under Jim's head. "Relax and get comfortable," he added, putting hand on Jim's shoulder above his injury. He gently rubbed the arm for a few moments before he slipped his hand under Jim's damaged arm and pressed an open hand against Jim's chest. 

When Jim finally wiggled slightly and settled in, Blair asked, "Okay?" 

"Hmmm. Great." 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Who did this to you and your brother?" 

Jim shrugged slightly. "I don't know who they were, Chief, but come morning..." 

Blair knew by the tone of Jim's voice that he would do anything and everything to find the people who hurt his brother. He felt Jim's pain acutely. Surprised at the strength of the feeling, he quietly asked, "You'd be able to recognize them again?" 

"Oh, yeah. I'll never forget them." 

"Tell me." 

"Three guys and a girl. Four, if you count the dead guy." Jim shifted again. "It happened so fast!" 

"Hey, man. Relax. It's okay. Just tell me what you saw." 

Jim nodded and moved restlessly. "It's like this… photograph in my head. I can still see every detail. This one guy had long, stringy blond hair, slim build, thirties... He was standing a few feet away from the group. You know the type... Like he was better than the rest. The ringleader, I'd say. He had on these black cowboy boots with silver tips. Black Stetson. Black suede jacket with fringe on the sleeves and across the chest." Jim snorted tiredly. "Funny what you remember, isn't it?" Blair didn't answer the rhetorical question, just rubbed Jim's shoulder lightly. After a few seconds, Jim returned to his monologue. "I'm sure the second man was the shooter of the dead man. He was still holding his rifle just so... I could almost smell the gun powder. He was dressed in full camo and black military issue boots. Early to mid forties, Caucasian, dark brown, short hair, kind of a beefy build. The woman was screaming at him, and when she lunged at him, he shoved her away. He seemed to be crying himself when I looked at his face. The leader said something when the other guy pushed her and he backed right off..." Shifting again, Jim sighed before he continued. "The third man was maybe late twenties to early thirties, thin, dark hair, dressed – funny. More like overdressed." 

"Overdressed?" Blair asked. 

"Yeah, a bit out of place for the woods. He was in this – outfit. Used to see a lot of the male pros dress that like when I was in vice. I'd say he was an out and about gay man. Bright yellow cowboy shirt with elaborate detail, pressed black slacks and black dress loafers." Jim wiggled again for a few moments. 

"The woman?" 

Again shifting, he said, "Young, under thirty. Blond, long hair in a pony tail, jeans and a blue ski jacket." 

"And the dead guy?" 

"Caucasian, about forty also, dark hair, dark pants and a green Army jacket." Jim shrugged, and sighed tiredly. 

"Did you hear anything they said?" 

"It all happened so fast... The woman looked like she was crying. One of the men held her arm and for a moment, I saw her face... Wet and distorted. Her mouth was open but I don't remember hearing any sounds. I think I was too focused on the rifles." 

"No shit," Blair muttered. 

Jim snorted. "It's like they show you on television... Everything moves in slow motion, yet so fast, you don't have time to take a breath. The woman crying, the dead guy bleeding, the two men with rifles... I start pushing Steven backward when the ringleader just happens to glance our way. He shouts something and immediately camo guy levels his rifle. He's shooting before I can get Steven under cover..." Jim shivered against Blair. 

With a comforting arm on Jim's shoulder well above his injury, Blair said softly, "Why don't you try and get some sleep?" 

"I can't get comfortable." To prove his point, he moved yet again. 

"Hurting?" 

"Guess so," Jim answered softly. 

"Warm enough?" 

"I'm good. It's... nice." 

"Nice?" Blair echoed. 

"With you. Here." 

With a grin, Blair said, "Cool. It's good being here with you, even if this sucks big time." 

"I know." Again, Jim wiggled. 

"Geez, man! You jump around any more and I'll have dust permanently settled in my nose."

"Sorry." 

"Why don't I tell you a story?" 

"What?"

"A story. To take your mind off your arm and to help you sleep. You do know what stories are, right?" 

"Smartass," Jim grumbled. "What kind of stories? What are you anyway?"

"I'm the guy who's keeping your butt warm." 

Even though Blair couldn't see Jim's face, he could hear the smile in his voice. "Other than that, Chief." 

Blair chuckled. "I'm an anthropologist, Jim. We have all kinds of stories." 

"Okay. So tell me a story." Jim grunted softly. "God, I haven't asked for that since I was six years old." 

"This is a special circumstance, Jim. So close your eyes and do your breathing. In and out, nice and slow, and I'll tell you a good one." Blair gave Jim a moment to try and relax before he started his tale. 

"This is an old Cherokee tale. It's about the quest for the sun. Long ago, the world was a cold and dark place, and the animals ran around, bumping into each other –” 

"Hang on. There were animals but no sun? That's a bit silly, isn't it?" 

Blair gave an exasperated sigh. "Geez, Jim, it's a parable, okay? It's supposed to teach a lesson while being entertaining, so just enjoy the story and forget about the practicality of it. Can you do that?" 

Jim chuckled softly. "Yes, Chief. I can do that." 

"Good. So anyway, the animals could see that there was light on the other side of the world, so they got together and had a council to discuss how they could get light for their own. Possum said he would travel east and bring back the light. He explained that he would carry the light on his bushy tail. After the council agreed, Possum set out, and after much travel, he reached the sun. He grabbed a hunk and put it on his tail, but it was so hot that it burned all the fur from it. He came home with no light. 

Next, Vulture said that he would go on the quest. He soared high up and dived out of the sky, snatching a piece of the sun in his claws. He put the piece on his head and started for home, but the sun burned off his feathers, so he lost the light also. Vulture returned home, bald and defeated. Snake also tried, but he fell into the fire when he tried to reach for it, barely escaping with his life. He slithered home, blackened and still with no fire or light. 

"So the animals held another council, but none of the birds, snakes or mammals would go for the sun. They felt much despair until a tiny voice spoke up. 

"I'll go for fire," small Spider said, spinning a little basket with her web. She placed the basket on her back and spinning a thread eastward, she went after the sun. When she reached the fiery ball, she took just a tiny little speck and put in into her basket. It was so small that it didn't burn through. Following her thread home, she returned from east to west, and as she traveled, the sun's rays grew and spread, lighting the world.

"And to this day, spiders weave webs mimicking the rays of the sun, and they spin them in the morning, just to remind everyone of their heroic ancestor. And that's the story of the animals' quest for the sun, and how they gave man the light." When Blair finished his story, he waited for a moment, but Jim never moved. He whispered, "Jim?" When there was no response, Blair listened. Jim's rhythmic breathing indicated that he was finally asleep. With a smile, Blair gently touched his forehead to the back of Jim's head and said softly, "Sleep well, my friend." With a small wiggle, he tried to get comfortable on their lumpy bed so that he could get some sleep as well. 

\---------------------------------------

When Blair woke, he was stiff and sore, and his arm, on which Jim's head still lay, was numb. He stifled a small groan and tried to flex the dead fingers. 

"Morning," Jim said sleepily. 

"Oh, hey. Morning. How do you feel?" 

"Okay. A bit better. Thanks. And hungry. You?" 

"My arm is dead, man. You're going to have to move just a bit."

"Sorry!" Jim managed to sit up, and looked down at Blair, who rubbed the tingling skin. 

"I hate pins and needles!" Blair whined, making Jim chuckle. Blair rolled his eyes and sat up next to his friend. "How's the arm?" 

"Sore as hell, but a lot better than yesterday." 

"I'll take look and change the bandage. I see it bled a bit during the night." Blair rose and stretched, leaning left, then right. "Oh, man," he groaned. "That bed was definitely not comfortable!" 

Jim scuttled to the end, rubbing his lower back while remarking, "Tell me about it." 

"Let me give you a hand." Blair held out a hand. 

Jim gave Blair a look that Blair couldn't quite decipher before he grabbed hold and let Blair help him to his feet. When Jim continued to stare at him in the early morning light that filtered in through the open door, Blair finally said, "What?" 

"You're..." 

"I'm...?" Blair encouraged. 

"Nothing. Thanks for staying."

Blair looked intently at Jim for a moment, wondering exactly what he was thinking, before he finally nodded. "Hey, no problem, man. Glad to help. You hungry?" 

"Yeah, but first..." Jim waved a hand toward the open door. 

Blair grinned. "Oh, yeah! Me too. But first, put this on. The air's still chilly." 

Jim started to protest, but Blair insisted, helping Jim into his jacket. It was a little big on Blair, so it fit Jim, although it was still tight across the shoulders. "We'll just drape it on your injured arm. I have to change that bandage anyway. Come on." 

With a hand under Jim's arm, together they wandered out onto the open area. Blair led Jim behind a few trees and waved a hand. "You need a hand?" Blair gave Jim a mischievous grin. 

Jim rolled his eyes. "I think I can handle it, Chief." 

Blair laughed and together, they took care of Mother Nature, almost forgetting for a few moments exactly why they were here in the first place. But as soon as Jim was finished, he started glancing around, tilting his head with a look of utter concentration on his face. 

"Jim? Don't you think..." Blair glanced around also, feeling Jim's anxiety as it washed over him. "Jim?" Blair touched Jim's arm before he finally responded, slightly shaking his head and focusing back on Blair. "Are you okay? You seemed as if you were – gone for a moment." 

"Sorry. What were you saying?" 

"I was going to say I was hoping Simon would have been back by now. You need some warmer clothes and a hot meal." Blair's body tensed. "Do you think he's okay?" 

Jim sighed and leaned against a tree. "I hope so." 

"Come on, man. Let's find some place to rest. I'm feeling a bit – funny about being here in the open." Jim nodded, his eyes still blood-shot and rimmed with dark rings. "You need to rest." 

"I'm okay," Jim insisted. 

Blair moved beside Jim and slipped an arm around his waist. "Lean on me." 

"I'm okay," he repeated, but he didn't try to pull away. In fact, to Blair's pleasure, he snaked his arm across Blair's shoulders and clamped a hand on his upper arm. "Thanks, Sandburg." 

"Sure, Jim. Any time." 

"The cabin's that way," Jim said when Blair started directing him in a direction opposite their hideaway. 

"I have a – funny feeling. I want to find someplace more - Oh!" Blair gently tugged on Jim's waist, urging him forward. "Come on!" 

"Where are we going? How will Simon find us if we leave?" 

"He'll know exactly where to look." Blair led him down the path, carefully making sure that Jim didn't stumble and hurt himself with a fall. Together, they made their way to the place where the stream tumbled down the ravine, and with a hand, Blair pointed up. "That's where Simon hid yesterday when he was watching me. Up there." 

Jim looked carefully. "I don't see anything." 

"That's the point, man. And neither will anybody else. We can rest there, and still keep watch. Simon will know where we are. Do you think you can climb?"

"Do I have a choice?" Jim quipped, his face mere inches from Blair's as he spoke. 

Blair studied Jim's mouth for a moment, and when he pictured himself moving closer to Jim and pressing their lips together, he gulped noisily. "It will be safer," he said quietly while inwardly telling himself to get a grip. 

Jim didn't protest further, but started forward, clambering over and around large rocks and downed trees. Blair followed closely, keeping a careful eye on Jim. Blair didn't know how Jim managed, but he did. 

When they reached the hidden ledge, Jim took two steps onto the flat ground before he sank to his knees, then sat back. Blair rushed forward, kneeling in front of his new acquaintance, whose face was pale and sweaty. His breathing was raspy and he swayed slightly. 

"Oh, man," Blair muttered. "Lie down, Jim. Come on." Carefully, he helped Jim get his feet out from under him and lay back on the ground. "Don't move. You just rest." When Jim nodded, his eyes closed, Blair scurried back down the ravine's side and to the old cabin. He set his backpack outside before he went back in and removed all traces of their presence. He kicked the brush that had served as their bed around on the floor and tossed the piece of canvas into the corner. Making sure that all of the orange peels and water bottles were not left behind, he took a piece of brush and wiped away their footprints. Once outside, Blair snagged his backpack, Simon's canteen and the old pot that he had used last night, and using his brush broom, he swept the dirt as he walked backward. When he reached the trail where the path was covered with pine needles, he tossed away his broom and headed back to where Jim lay hidden. 

\--------------------------------

Blair stopped to fill the empty bottles and the canteen with water before he climbed back up to Jim, who still lay in the same spot with an arm thrown across his eyes. Blair watched for a moment, pleased that Jim's breathing had settled. Still, his demeanor was one of fatigue and pain. 

Jim obviously wasn't asleep because when Blair carefully walked toward him, he lifted the arm. Their eyes met and Jim gave a little smile. "You're back." 

"Well, yeah. Did you think I wouldn't be?" 

Jim shrugged. "I was hoping..." 

Blair waited but when Jim didn't continue, he smiled. Jim had been waiting for him to return, and was pleased when he did. "Do you want to move into the shade?"

"No, the sun feels good. I was kind of cold." 

"Okay, just rest. You look like shit, and I need to change that bandage." Blair saw a bright red stripe of blood coloring the gauze. "I'm going to start a small fire. You need something hot to drink, and I need to really clean that wound." 

Blair cast a worried glance at Jim. He'd been stoic on the climb up, but Blair could tell the endeavor had taken its toll. Jim lay still, and didn't respond to Blair's suggestion that he start a fire. Blair bit his lip, Jim wasn't in any condition to do what he needed to do to take care of himself right now, and Blair was. Mind made up, he gathered a small pile of dry twigs and twisted a handful of dry grass into a knot. It only took one match to start the fire and carefully, Blair fed the fire until it grew to a small blaze. He glanced up, intently watching the trail of smoke. It was thin and wispy, and the breeze caught it as it rose, making the smoke dissipate quickly. Hoping that no one would notice such a small amount of smoke, especially the bad guys, he mused, he set the pot that he'd filled with water onto the coals. 

While the water heated, Blair dumped out the contents of his backpack. He had one unopened bottle of water left, along with some trail mix, two chocolate bars and a rather battered apple. He rummaged through the side zipper pockets and discovered a couple of packs of peanut butter crackers and three tea bags. Spreading his supplies out on the same t-shirt he'd used last night, he opened the first aid kit as well. His hair fell over his face so he grabbed it back into a pony tail at the base of his neck and after digging through his jeans' pocket with one hand for an elastic tie, secured it out of his way. 

The water started to boil. Blair gave it a minute or two to remove any threat of bacteria before he used a piece of clothing as a pot holder and moved the pot from the embers. He wished he had another container to make the tea in, but since he didn't, he shrugged and waited, watching Jim. From the regular rise and fall of Jim's chest, he could tell that the man was asleep. Poor guy was worn out from his blood loss and concussion, not to mention the mental anguish of not knowing if his brother was alive or dead. Maybe the sun's warmth would help him regain a little strength so that when Simon returned with clean clothes, blankets and food, after another day of rest, he would be well enough to make it back to their camp. 

Blair rolled his eyes. No way Jim would go back to camp. Jim would start searching for his brother the second he could walk without falling flat on his face. Hell, Blair figured Jim would have crawled to look for Steven by now if Simon hadn't stopped him. He seemed to be that kind of man. Strong, and protective, and devoted. Blair smiled. He liked that in a guy, and he found himself starting to really like Jim, even though he didn't know that much about him. 

"I know the important stuff," he said softly, testing the water with a finger. It was cooling down now, so he wanted to tend to Jim's arm while it was hot enough to really clean the wound. "Jim?' Blair called softly, but when Jim didn't respond, he moved closer and gently touched Jim's arm. "Hey, man. Let's get that arm cleaned up." 

Jim slowly woke; the arm covering his eyes fell away and he blinked wearily. "What...? Sandburg?" 

"Right here, Jim. You've been asleep for a while in the sun. Come on, I don't want you getting a sunburn on top of everything else." 

"Simon back?" 

Blair could here the worry in Jim's voice. "No, not yet. Come on. Let's get this arm taken care of." Jim allowed Blair to help him up and over to a shady spot where he could lean back against a large boulder. Gently, Blair peeled off the tape he'd put on the gauze yesterday, and unwound the bandage. Some of the material stuck to the wound and when Blair tried to remove it, Jim hissed with pain. "Sorry." 

"It's okay." 

Fetching his pan of water, Blair poured it from the container onto a clean towelette until it was dripping, then he let the moisture drip onto the encrusted bandage until it was wet. He repeated the process several times until the bandage finally came loose. Removing the gauze, Blair used gentle fingers to touch the damaged skin. "Hurt?" 

"Yeah, but not too bad. You know, kind of a dull roar." 

Blair chuckled. "It looks – okay, I guess. It's too late for stitches now anyway, but the butterflies are keeping it closed. I hate taking these ones off, but they're covered with blood." 

"Just leave them," Jim said with a grimace when Blair must have touched a particularly sensitive spot. 

"I'll take care of it, Jim," Blair said comfortingly. 

Jim's eyes opened and he smiled. "I know." 

Blair returned the small smile with a large one of his own. Jim trusted him. He was pleased with that gift, and feeling a little bit better about almost forcing his help on Jim and Simon, he cleaned Jim's arm thoroughly, being as gentle as possible. Even though, after he was finished, Jim was tense and sweaty, and he sat with his eyes tightly closed and his fist clenched. Stoically, he never said a word. Blair shook his head, knowing that this was obviously part of the Ellison charm. 

While Jim rested, he dumped out the dirty water and wiped the pot with a clean t-shirt before putting another of the bottles of water into the now relatively clean container. He set the pot back onto the embers, which had burned down considerably while he was tending to Jim. He figured that they had enough heat to warm the water for tea. Cleaning up the first aid supplies, Blair got together a meager breakfast. 

\------------------------------

"Jim? I hate to bother you, but I've made you some tea. And you need to eat something." 

Jim's eyes opened slowly. "I'm... okay, Chief," he said quietly. "Just a bit tired." 

Blair smiled. "I know. Here, drink this." 

Jim took the plastic container and gave it a strange look. Blair grinned and shrugged. "We didn't have anything to use for cups, so I took my Swiss Army knife and cut the plastic water bottle in half and used the bottom. Voila! A cup for tea." 

Jim sipped the brownish liquid. "It's warm!" 

"Good observation. I lit a fire, remember? I warmed up the water." 

Jim's eyes widened. "What? You lit a fire?" 

"Geez, Jim, you must have been really out of it. Yes, I told you, remember?" 

Jim shook his head before he sipped the warm brew. "Hey, not bad. Kind of tastes like oranges." 

"I used two tea bags, one orange zest and one black tea. I didn't have any sugar or creamer." 

"This is good." 

"Eat these," Blair said, placing an open package of the crackers into Jim's hand. "You need to get something in your stomach. Oh, and I have a couple more Tylenol for you too." Blair held out the two pills in one hand. In the other, he held the bag of trail mix. "And give this a try." 

"Geez, Sandburg. Give me a chance, will you?"

Blair blushed. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to – push. I'm just worried about you." 

Jim took the pills with the last few gulps of tea before he passed the homemade cup to Blair. "Is there some for you?" 

"Yeah, I was just waiting for you to finish so I could use the cup. Now eat up." 

"Yes, Mom," Jim said with an exasperated smile. At Blair's feigned glare, he grinned and started into the crackers. 

Blair watched until he ate at least four of the round cracker sandwiches before he passed Jim the bag of trail mix. "There's plenty of this." 

"Thanks, Sandburg." While Blair fixed his own cup of lukewarm tea and ate a few of the crackers, he watched Jim pick out the candy pieces and eat them. Next, he fished out a couple of raisins and a dried apricot, along with some of the granola chunks, but he purposefully avoided the dried pineapple. 

Grinning into his cup, Blair said, "What's wrong with the pineapple, Jim?" 

Jim made a funny face. "I hate pineapple." 

"I love it, especially fresh. It's –” Blair's words dried up when he glanced up from his breakfast to see Jim's face a mask of concentration. His head was turned away from Blair, and from the set of his shoulders, Blair knew that something must have caught his attention. He fell silent, listening intently. He heard the rustle of leaves on the breeze and the occasional cry of a bird, but otherwise, all was quiet. 

"Jim?" he whispered. He wasn't exactly sure why he kept his voice low, but something in Jim's demeanor called for caution. 

Jim's gaze found Blair's. "Someone's coming." 

Blair started to rise. "Simon!" 

Jim's hand reached out and he grabbed Blair's sleeve. "No. Not Simon." 

"Oh, God. How can you tell?"

Blair was astonished at how quickly Jim moved in spite of his injury. Before he could take a breath, they both lay side by side in the dirt on their stomachs. 

"There," Jim whispered, carefully moving a few leaves on the bush directly in front of them and indicating to the right where the path followed the stream up from the lower meadow. 

Blair moved a small branch and focused on the path where Jim pointed. He waited, but for many minutes, he didn't see or hear anything. "Are you sure?" he said quietly. 

"Shhh," Jim hissed. 

Blair watched intently through the brush, and less than a minute later, a figure emerged from the trees. The man was dressed in a black suede jacket with fringe on the sleeves and across the breast. His right hand was in his pocket and a rifle rested in the crook of that arm. When he drew closer, Blair could see the black leather cowboy boots – with the silver tips. Under the brim of his black hat, Blair could see the long stringy blond hair and the angular face. Jim's gaze found Blair's and from the furious look in his eyes, Blair knew without a doubt that this was one of the men who had shot Jim, and had taken and possibly killed Steven. 

He held his breath when the man approached their hiding place. Was it as invisible from below as he'd hoped? Could the hunter possibly smell the residual smoke from the fire that he'd extinguished and covered with dirt only ten minutes ago? 

The man raised his left hand and pressed binoculars to his face. He scanned the woods and the hillside below and above where Jim and Blair lay. 

Blair closed his eyes, praying that they wouldn't be found. All he had to defend himself and Jim with was his Swiss Army knife. No way they stood a chance against that rifle. 

Blair forced his eyes to open. A drip of sweat ran from his hairline, through his eyebrow and down his eyelid. He fought the urge to wipe it away, terrified that any movement would reveal their hiding place. He had the sudden urge to giggle hysterically when he thought about the many movies he'd seen where the poor defenseless victim reveals their hiding place by sneezing. He would not sneeze, he told himself. Sneeze and die, his brain told him, making him sweat even more. 

Suddenly, from the other side of the ravine, the screech of an eagle sounded. With his eyes riveted on the ground in front of him, Blair held his breath as the large bird's shadow flashed before his eyes when it apparently flew directly over his head. He heard the eagle cry out again, this time from behind and above him. He watched the hunter below. 

The man allowed the binoculars to drop from his hand and dangle from the cord around his neck. It seemed that seeing the eagle fly along the rocks and land just above them had convinced the man that since the bird showed no trepidation about using this particular part of the hillside for a perch while hunting, that it was feeling safe. 

The man walked directly below them on his trek upward. He barely glanced at the pool where Blair had tasted the water on his hike. Was it only yesterday? It felt like a week ago, he mused. Carefully, he kept his eye on the man. It wouldn't be long before the man found the tumbled cabin. With their gazes locked, Jim didn't have to ask the question aloud that his eyes plainly conveyed. Had Blair removed all signs that they'd been in the cabin? 

Blair thought back quickly. He'd scattered the branches and the old canvas. He'd picked up all of the orange peels and the empty water bottles, and he clearly remembered looking carefully for any signs of recent habitation. He'd brushed through their tracks. With a confident nod, he smiled wanly at Jim, who nodded back. Now all they could do was wait and hope that after the man looked around, he'd be satisfied that Jim wasn't anywhere near the cabin, and go away. 

\---------------------------

Jim and Blair lay in the dirt for many minutes. The eagle lifted off from its perch and flew lazy circles above their heads, casting its shadow on them several times. When it gave an alarmed cry, Blair looked toward where the cabin was hidden in the trees and saw the man returning down the path. The man glanced up at the eagle as it disappeared over the treetops and hefting his gun more comfortably in his arm, he quickly walked down the path, disappearing from sight. Blair closed his eyes with a deep sigh. They hadn't been discovered! When his eyes opened and he turned to say something to Jim, he was shocked to see that Jim was gone. 

Blair scrambled to his feet, keeping as quiet as possible in case the man returned. He saw Jim disappearing into the brush, clearly intending to clamber down the ravine. 

Blair snagged the back of Jim's shirt. "Where are you going?" he hissed angrily.

Jim's head snapped around. "Where the hell do you think? I'm going to follow him! He might lead me to Steven!" 

"Jim, you are in no condition to go traipsing off after that man, especially since he has a rifle! Are you nuts?" 

Jim yanked his shirt from Blair's fingers. "You get yourself out of here, Sandburg. Go and be – safe. I'll handle this!" Jim turned away, climbing down as quickly as he could. 

Blair followed until they made the flat ground. 

Hurrying away, Jim followed the man, who'd disappeared from sight. They'd only gone a few hundred feet when, from behind a large fir tree, Simon Banks suddenly appeared. 

"Jim!"

Jim stopped short. "Simon! Did you find him?" 

"No, he hadn't come back to camp. Sorry, Jim," Simon said quietly. "I've been following that one." He hiked a thumb in the direction of where the man with the rifle had disappeared. "You go back and take it easy. I'll see where he goes." 

Before Blair could ask about the supplies, Simon turned and left. He watched until the man disappeared from sight before he said, "Come on, Jim. You need to take it easy." 

"I'm okay." 

"Yeah, I can see that. You're just fine and dandy." When Jim scowled, Blair held out his hands. "Look at yourself. You're sweating like crazy and you're white as a sheet. I know you said you've been hurt worse in the past, but this time things are different. You also have a concussion and spent two nights so far outside in the cold air. You haven't had a chance to rest and haven't had a decent meal in what? Three days now?"

Jim's mouth thinned into a tight line. "He's my brother!" he said angrily. "He was my responsibility and I got him – hurt!" 

Blair saw the pain in Jim's eyes and it broke his heart. "Listen," he said, moving closer and putting a hand on Jim's chest. "We'll find him. I promise you, I'll do everything I can to help." 

Jim looked into Blair's eyes, and for a long minute, he was very still. "Why? Why would you risk your life for somebody you don't even know?" 

Blair smiled. "But I know you," he said softly. "That's enough." 

Surprisingly, Jim's eyes were bright when he moved half a step closer to Blair. He leaned down and Blair held his breath, sure that Jim was going to kiss him. He waited, his mouth parting slightly in anticipation, but Jim stopped mere inches from him. 

"You need to get going... Before you're missed," Jim finally said huskily, reaching out with his left hand to brush a wayward strand of hair from Blair's forehead. 

"Not until Simon returns," Blair responded, closing his eyes at the gentle touch. When he opened them, Jim was smiling at him. 

"Speak of the devil..." Jim turned, making Blair glance around him. For a few moments, he didn't see anyone, but strangely, Simon emerged from the trees. 

He looked at Jim with a questioning glance, but Jim just shrugged. Together, they waited while Simon walked toward them, but before either could ask about the murderer, Simon held up a hand. 

"I lost him in the trees. He cut through the woods before the big meadow, and I'll bet you a hundred bucks he's heading for the retreat. I'll also bet the rest of those murdering bastards are there right now." 

"Hey, it's okay," Blair said when he saw Jim give a dejected sigh. "Remember what I said. A promise is a promise." Turning to Simon, he asked, "What about the supplies? Jim needs some food in him." 

"I stowed them in a hollow tree when I saw that one hiking through the woods. I wanted to follow him in case..." Simon shifted uncomfortably, "In case he would lead me to Steven." 

Jim blinked slowly before rubbing his eyes tiredly, and Blair saw the knowing glance that Jim and Simon exchanged. When Simon said, "Say, Sandburg, can you go for the supplies? They're stowed not far from here." Blair knew that they wanted to talk without his presence. 

Blair looked from one man to the other before he slowly nodded. "I'll go." 

Blair saw the look of approval in Simon's eyes when he said, "Follow the trail down to the first waterfall, turn north and head straight through the stand of blue spruce. You'll see one that was hit by lightning; it's hollowed out. I stashed the stuff in there." 

"I'll find it. You help Jim." Blair gave the man a curt nod, not giving Jim a chance to protest. He didn't look back as he left, giving the men a chance to discuss their next plan of action. He knew that they probably didn't want to talk about what they might have to do to rescue Jim's brother in front of a civilian – if he was still alive, Blair silently added. 

\-----------------------------------

Blair easily found the cache of supplies. Yanking the stuffed backpack and nylon duffel from their hiding place, he almost stopped to rustle through the supplies for something to eat. His meager meal that constituted breakfast was long gone, and his stomach rumbled in response to his thoughts of food. But Jim hadn't eaten much either and he was the one who was hurt, so Blair slipped on the backpack and hefted the duffel, and hurried back to his friends. 

Simon met him about halfway and took the duffel, which Blair handed over with a smile and a word of thanks. Simon wasn't very talkative, but he gave Blair a nod and led the way. They climbed back up to the hiding place to find Jim sitting in the sun. 

"Hey, Jim," Blair greeted. Jim gave a tired smile in return. "Simon says he brought you a change of clothes. If it's okay, I want to light a fire and fix you a hot meal." 

Jim glanced at Simon who returned the look. Blair couldn't tell what the men were thinking, but after a few moments, when Jim gave Simon a small nod, Simon turned to Blair. "Go ahead. Just keep it small, and use dry wood." 

"Will do." Blair considered the many looks exchanged between the men. They didn't have to tell the observant man that they were silently communicating about something they considered very important, but were not willing to share with Blair. He thought about what it could be while he used the same spot that he'd used earlier for the first fire he'd built, but this time, he made it a little larger. While Jim snapped dry twigs into pieces, Blair fed the small blaze until it burned brightly. While waiting for it to burn down, Blair examined the contents of the backpack. With a satisfied grunt, he dug out packets of freeze-dried food and instant coffee, along with a set of metal cookware and dishes that nested into a small, compact bundle. He unclipped the lid of the stockpot and removed the cups and plates, forks, knives and spoons that were inside. Blair rose and grabbed three of the plastic bottles that once held water. "I'll go and get fresh water." 

After a moment's hesitation, during which Jim seemed to be thinking seriously, he said with a soft warning, "Just be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you." 

Blair smiled at the warmth he saw in Jim's eyes, his own feeling of warmth rushing through his insides. "Sure. I'll be careful." Again, he saw Simon and Jim exchange a quick look, but their faces revealed nothing. 

Puzzled, Blair yet again made his way down from their ledge and to the creek, filling the bottles quickly. 

Back at the hideaway, his companions were quiet. Jim had changed into a clean shirt and jeans, and Simon had rigged a clean bandanna he'd brought in his gear into a sling for Jim's arm. 

While Blair filled the pot with the water, he asked, "How's the arm feel, Jim?" 

"Sore as hell, Chief," Jim replied, flexing his fingers. 

"I still have something for the pain." 

"Thanks, Sandburg. I'd appreciate that." 

"Simon, would you get that bottle of Tylenol out of my backpack for me? It's right behind you." 

"Yeah, sure," Simon said, unzipping the main section. "I don't see..." When Simon's words trailed off, Blair looked up from his cooking duties to see the man staring down at the small book in his hand. 

"Oh, hey, man. Nothing interesting in that." 

Simon raised his eyes. "What's this about?" he asked. His voice was only what Blair could call – strange, almost suspicious. 

Blair's eyes narrowed when he saw Simon again flash Jim that same funny look. Jim returned the look with a minute shrug, clearly saying that he didn't understand. 

Blair rose and before Simon could move, he'd taken the book from Simon's fingers. "It's my thesis. Nothing you'd be interested in." 

At Jim's puzzled look, Simon explained in a rush, "Sandburg's thesis is called 'Heightened Senses and Today's Modern Sentinel: An In-depth Analysis of Pre-civilized Man in the Twentieth Century'." 

"Pre-civilized man," Jim complained. "Who's he calling a cave man?" 

"Whoa! Hang on. Nobody's talking about anyone –” Blair turned to face Jim, and his mouth fell open. "Oh, crap. Why didn't I see it before? I am so stupid sometimes!" Blair bopped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. "God, it's you! That's why you're so – wiped out from the bullet wound. I mean, anybody would be, of course, but you said you've been hurt worse. And my study explains that emotional turmoil heightens the senses, causing unexpected spikes and lulls in even the most steady Sentinel. Not to mention all these stoic glances between you and Simon. Like you guys have some big secret and are being careful I don't find out! I should have realized –” 

"Sandburg, please!" Jim said testily, cutting off his diatribe. 

"What is he?" Simon added, glaring at Blair while talking to Jim. "Some kind of – neo-witchdoctor punk? I knew it was a mistake to get him involved. You should have let me –” 

Blair bristled. "Yeah, Jim. Why didn't you let the police captain just kill me? Then your problems would have been solved! You could have just waltzed on your way, both of you. I've been nothing but a hindrance to your adventure." Blair threw up his hands then he reached down and yanked his pack out of Simon's fingers. Both men were too surprised at Blair's outburst to say anything. By the time Jim had gathered his wits, Blair was half-way down the ravine and moving fast. 

Jim stumbled behind, calling, "Sandburg, wait!" 

Blair ignored Jim's call, determined to put as much distance between the two ungrateful men as he could. But when he heard Jim's startled, "Oh, shit!" he stopped and turned to see Jim sprawled on the ground, holding his injured arm with his good hand. 

Blair sighed and walked back over to where Jim lay. "Are you okay? Or is that too – personal a question?" 

"Chief, I'm sorry. Really. Give me a chance to explain." 

Blair helped Jim to his feet. "No need. I know when I'm not wanted. I was trying to help." 

"And you did. Trust me, I might not have made it last night if it wasn't for you. Ever since you showed up, I've felt – better. Having you here makes me feel much better, but..." Jim looked away. 

"You're afraid I might get hurt." When Jim nodded, Blair placed a hand on Jim's uninjured arm. "I'm a grown man, Jim. I can make up my own mind about whom I choose to help. I chose to help you." 

"And I - we appreciate it. Now come back up and eat something before you have to take off. It's getting late." 

Blair glanced at his watch. "Yeah," he conceded, "you're right. It's way past noon and I know Naomi will be expecting me to be there by mid-afternoon." 

Jim nodded, turning to lead the way. 

Blair followed silently, thinking about the fact that Jim had heightened senses. He wondered how strong his senses were, and how to test them. Deciding that now might not be the time to interrogate the injured Sentinel and bring up the subject of experiments, he filed away this very important information for perusal at a later time. 

\----------------------------

Blair retrieved his duffel from under the blackberry bush where he'd stowed it a lifetime ago. With a snort at his own silliness, he knew that the past thirty-six hours had passed by in a blur. He'd gone hiking, been attacked by a police captain, slept with a detective, and gotten involved in at least one murder, possibly two if Jim's brother wasn't found alive. And there was no telling what nefarious activities led to the murder of the unknown man on the logging road. With a shake of his head at these unhappy thoughts, Blair settled the straps of the duffel comfortably in his hand and headed down the main road toward the retreat at a steady pace, making the main lodge inside of an hour. 

Blair heard his mother's voice as he walked toward the front door of the lodge. From the cool shadows, Naomi appeared dressed in nice jeans and a blue knit sweater that set off her eyes, looking wonderful to Blair's gaze. He grinned up at his mother from the bottom of the stairs. 

"Blair Sandburg! What in the heck happened to you?" Naomi's eyes were wide and curious. 

For a moment, Blair felt a spike of fear, wondering how he'd betrayed the fact that he had met up with Jim and Simon, but from his mother's look of amused exasperation, he realized that something else was amiss. 

"Naomi!" he cried happily, dropping the duffel to race up the stairs and envelope his mother in a hug. 

Her arms wound around him and she gave him a resounding kiss on the cheek before she pulled back, laughing. "Sweetie, you look like you slept in a cave." Her knowing eyes took in his messy hair and dusty clothing. 

Blair grinned. "I went hiking and found this cool place. It reminded me of you, so I had to explore." His hand raked through his hair, dislodging bits of grass and leaves. He gave himself an inner smack for not even thinking about his own rather dusty appearance. "I saw some really beautiful columbines on the side of a hill." He shrugged. "I guess I slipped a few times, but I had to look closer at them! They were all shades of blue and pink. I think some of them were pretty rare." 

Naomi laughed melodiously, her eyes shining with love, although there was a trace of that motherly intuition present. Blair knew that Naomi knew something was up. She didn't betray her thoughts, but instead said, "Blair, you wouldn't know a rare orchid from a dandelion, but thanks for the thought. You're a sight for sore eyes!" After glancing around to be sure they were alone, Naomi scrutinized him carefully before she asked quietly, "What is it?" 

Blair gave a rueful look. Mother radar was obviously still working. With a smile, he sidestepped her questioning look with a simple, "Later. Okay?" 

Naomi nodded immediately before waving a hand at his bag. "Let's get you settled in. You look like you need a shower." 

Laughing, Blair trotted back down the steps to retrieve his bag. "And I'm starving!" 

"Aren't you always?" Naomi quipped, standing with her hands on her slim hips. "You look wonderful, sweetie." 

Walking back up the steps, Blair gave his mother a loving glance. "And so do you." 

\-------------------------------

Blair took the hand offered, schooling his face into a pleasant mask. "Thanks. Happy to be here." His hand was shaken firmly, and he forced his gaze to remain locked on the face of the man standing in front of him. Dawson Quinn's demeanor was one of a gracious host, happy to meet the new guest upon his arrival, but Blair felt a cold pit of dread settle into his belly. The silver-toed cowboy boots were planted less than two feet from his own hiking-boot clad feet. He knew immediately that this was one of the men who had shot Jim Ellison and had possibly killed Jim's brother, Steven. This was the very same man who nonchalantly leaned against a tree and smoked a cigarette while another man was killed. 

"I think you'll enjoy your stay here," Quinn went on. "We have done quite a bit of renovating the past three years and put in some wonderful improvements. The isolation pool is a huge success. It's fabulous for deep meditation. You must try it." 

Blair nodded, smiling. "Sounds great! I'll let you know. But first, I'd love to have a shower and a meal, then look around." Across the room, Blair saw a young woman leaning into a very large fireplace, scraping out ashes. He realized from Jim's description that this was the woman who had been present at the killing, at Jim's attempted murder, and Steven's disappearance. He forced himself back into the conversation with Quinn and Naomi. 

"Sure! Please, consider the entire facility at your disposal." Quinn turned to Naomi and took her hand. "He's as wonderful as you described, Ms. Sandburg." 

"Naomi, please," Naomi responded, smiling brightly while giving Blair a satisfied smile. "He is, isn't he?" 

"Yes, indeed," Quinn answered before calling, "Emmet?" 

"Here, my liege." A slender man trotted across the room after emerging from a door marked "Office". "I'll will happily escort our newest arrival to his accommodations," he said, hands making wide, sweeping gestures. If he had a cape, Blair knew it would have been swirled about with a flourish, and he had to stifle the urge to giggle. 

"Emmet Montgomery, Blair Sandburg. Thanks, Emmet. I have some bookwork to do." With a nod, Quinn strode toward the office. 

Blair couldn't resist a glance at the retreating back. Long stringy blond hair, slim build, and those boots... He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to Emmet. Of course, this was the "strangely-dressed" fellow. Emmet fit the description perfectly. His pressed blue jeans and brightly colored, tapered green cowboy shirt with white pearl snaps and embroidered with a white swirl design, also perfectly ironed, showed off his slim build. Highly polished alligator-skin boots, not faux, Blair noted with distaste, finished off the ensemble. The man's hair was cut and styled to within an inch of its life, and a diamond stud in his ear sparkled, no doubt a real gem. Blair wondered how he could afford such garb working at a retreat. 

Leading the way out the front door and to one of the cabins located to the right of the main lodge, Blair and Naomi followed Emmet as he chatted constantly. Naomi kept shooting curious glances at Blair, who smiled and hooked an arm through hers. 

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Naomi asked. 

"Yes, I'm great. Just a bit tired." Blair smiled in response, forcing himself to follow Emmet, when all he wanted to do was rush back into the forest and find Jim to reassure himself that he was okay. 

"We have arrived." Emmet opened the door with a flourish and waved his guests inside. "But then, of course, your delightful mother has already given her stamp of approval to this abode. Ms. Sandburg was very specific about her choice," he said with a toothy grin. "This very cabin is in perfect alignment with the chosen constellations and the celestial bodies of the summer heavens. I hope this humble dwelling also meets with your benevolent endorsement, Mr. Sandburg." 

Covering his giggle with a cough, Blair said, "Call me Blair, please." 

"Why, thank you, kind sir. Blair it is." Standing in the center of the small cabin, Emmet looked around. He walked over to the small table and fussed with the vase of greenery in the center. "Fresh sage, Ms. Sandburg." 

"Thank you, Emmet. Could we have an early dinner? Say about six o'clock?" 

"As it happens, that is our usual dining hour. Here in the wilds, by nine strikes of the clock, we are all abed. And for tonight's repast, I will be doing a medley of local produce and a special dessert in honor of your arrival." At Blair's questioning glance, he laughed. "Did not your most agreeable mother explain to you that we at Glacier Mountain adhere to a strictly vegetarian diet? But never fear. The food here is first class, and you will find that decadence does co-exist happily with a non-animal diet. I guarantee it!" With a conspiratorial grin, he added, "Remember, chocolate is allowed." 

Blair smiled at Emmet's enthusiasm. "I'm sure it will be fine. Now I think I'll take a shower." 

"That's my subtle cue to disappear. Until we dine, then," Emmet said with a flick of a hand, and spinning on his heels, he sauntered across the room and out the front door. Waving goodbye, he finally made his exit. 

"God, I thought he'd never leave," Blair muttered, glancing around the cabin that would be home for the next week. It was clean and uncluttered with two twin beds on one side of the room, a small kitchenette with a table and two chairs, and a comfortable sitting area. There was a stone fireplace, along with a stack of freshly split wood. Blair could smell the pine pitch that permeated the air. With a sigh, his shoulders sagged. 

"Honey, what's wrong?" Naomi frowned. 

"Later, okay, Mom? Right now, I need a shower and something hot to drink. Is there coffee?"

"Herbal tea, sweetie. No caffeine allowed." 

Blair groaned. He dropped his backpack on one of the two beds and after retrieving his duffel from where Emmet had placed it inside the front door, he dug through to find a clean flannel shirt, undershirt, jeans, socks and boxers. Sitting tiredly on the edge of the cot, he sighed and rubbed his eyes before he unlaced his hiking boots and pulled them off. He wanted to flop back onto the bed and close his eyes, but he knew if he did, he'd be asleep in moments. 

"Blair, sweetie, you look done in." 

Blair gave Naomi a tired smile. "You have no idea. Let me get cleaned up and then we'll talk. I have a lot to tell you and I need your advice." 

Naomi leaned down to kiss Blair's cheek. "I'll make tea." 

\-------------------------------------

Blair sat sideways on the sofa, his legs crossed, with a hot cup of a fragrant herbal tea. He sipped the pungent brew slowly, sighing with pleasure at the fruity taste. 

Naomi sat opposite him, similarly positioned, with her own cup of tea. "Good?" 

"God, yes," Blair said succinctly. 

With a frown, she asked, "I don't like seeing your aura so - upset, sweetie." 

"How do you always know?" 

"I'm a mother, Blair. We always know when something's bothering our children." 

Blair couldn't help but smile. "I'm sorry I'm so out of it. It was a rough night last night, not to mention a bit of a screwed up day yesterday. Well, more or less." Meeting Jim definitely did not fit into the "screwed up" part. His being hurt and Steven being missing definitely had. And he didn't even like thinking about his and Simon's initial meeting. Naomi sipped her tea and remained silent. Blair smiled gratefully. "It's so good to see you!" 

"Thank you, sweetie." 

"So... I met someone." At Naomi's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "Yesterday, in the woods. First this guy attacked me, then –” 

"What? Are you all right?" Naomi asked, concern tingeing her words while her hand reached out and her warm fingers circled Blair's wrist. "What happened?" 

Blair sighed and closed his eyes. "It's such a long story. I'm not sure where to begin." 

"Blair, just take a deep cleansing breath first. Do you want me to walk you through it?" 

Blair smiled, remembering his mother's lessons to him as a child. Her words echoed in his head even after all these years... He'd come running into the house, overly excited and unable to verbalize his thoughts. "Blair, sweetie, I want to hear every detail but first you have to relax so you can tell me in an understandable fashion. So sit down right beside me and close your eyes. Cross your legs and rest your hands on your knees. Now breathe with me. In and hold. Out and hold. In and hold. Out and hold...." 

"I'm good, Mom. Thank you." At Naomi's smile, he took in a deep breath and after releasing it slowly, he told his story... 

\----------------------------------

"... so, we have to be very careful. I'm afraid we could be in danger if they have any idea that I know who they are." Blair's throat was dry from talking but when he took a swallow of his tea, he made a face. "And know that I've told you..."

"It doesn't taste very good cold, does it?" 

"No, it doesn't."

"What should we do?" 

Blair looked into Naomi's face and said firmly, "We aren't doing anything. I'm going to try and see if I can find out anything about what's going on and where Jim's brother could be." 

"Blair Sandburg, you can't tell me a story like that and expect me not to help you! Not when you seem intent on placing yourself in danger. You know what these men are capable of doing! Your Jim was shot by one of them, and his brother is missing!" Naomi rose and set down her cup on a small end table. "Besides, with two of us looking for the missing brother, we can cover more ground." 

"No way! I'm not putting you in any kind of danger. Now I want you to just play it very cool around these people! If they suspect anything, they'll kill again. Besides, I have to figure out exactly why they're acting the way they are. Let's face it, something is up, and I'm going to find out what it is." 

"But you're not some private eye! You're an anthropologist, for heaven's sake!" 

"Mom, I'm helping Jim and Simon and that's final." Blair rose and stood facing his mother, his hands on his hips. 

Naomi's gaze held his for a long minute before she reached out and touched his hair. "Okay, sweetie. But I'm keeping my eyes and ears open. Two heads are better than one, and I can be pretty darned secretive when I need do. After all, mothers learn about being secretive when they have children."

"Mom, promise me you won't do anything!" 

Naomi chewed her lip for a moment before she finally nodded. "I promise." 

"I'm holding you to that." At Blair's insistent glare, Naomi smiled and shrugged. He studied her seemingly innocent demeanor for a moment, then sighed. He knew her well enough to know that if he was in any sort of danger, she would do whatever she could to help him. She was, after all, his mom. "How long before dinner is scheduled?" 

"About an hour. I brought some snacks for you if you're hungry." 

Blair grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it. "No, I want to go and take a look around. I'll be back." With a parting smile at his mother's admonition to be careful, Blair slipped out. 

Walking toward the main lodge, Blair casually sauntered along, hands in his pockets. He walked past the lodge heading for the rear of the building. Occasionally, he stopped and looked around, picking up a pine cone or glancing upward, trying to look like he was enjoying the surroundings. He made his way down the side of the log building and around the back, keeping a close eye out for anything that would give him a hint about what was going on. Glancing around, he saw the same young woman who had been cleaning the fireplace when he had entered the lodge's main lobby. She was busily gathering up kindling and placing it into a carry-all. With an eye toward helping Jim, he casually sauntered over to her, making plenty of noise to let her know he was approaching. 

Spreading his arms wide and doing his utmost to appear friendly, he said cheerfully, "It's so beautiful here!" He grinned innocently and paused a few feet away from her, reaching down to pick up several pieces of wood. With another friendly smile, he placed the wood into her canvas tote. 

"Thanks," the woman said quietly, raising her face toward Blair. 

Blair could see the red-rimmed eyes and the smudges around them. It looked to him as if the young woman hadn't slept in days. Also, her hands were shaky and plucked at the wood pieces nervously, not to mention that she was extremely thin. She looked like a little lost girl, all eyes and trembling mouth. He had no idea how old she was, but he was guessing that she was older than she looked, especially as she looked right now, like some homeless wait with her oversize clothes and unkempt hair. He couldn't help but think of her as a young girl, even though he knew she was a grown woman. 

"Hey, it's okay. I'm Blair Sandburg." 

"Lisa Rogers." 

"Pleased to meet you, Lisa." When she shrugged and continued her duties, Blair frowned. This girl was obviously unhappy, and he knew he shouldn't, but he decided to take advantage of this by being very friendly. Maybe she would be the key to opening the puzzle of what in the hell was going on, and most importantly, where Steven Ellison was. Besides, he thought sympathetically, she looked like she could use a friend. And if it worked to his advantage, well... 

"Have you lived here long?" he asked conversationally. 

Lisa shrugged again and said, "A while."

"I'd love to live in the woods like this. No car horns or bus fumes. Wide blue sky and clean air." Blair smiled and breathed deeply and theatrically. "I like seeing the animals. Deer, elk, coyotes, owls." 

Lisa straightened up and hefted her canvas tote. "It's okay, I guess. I have to..." She turned, but Blair quickly removed the bag from her hand. 

"Let me." 

Lisa looked confused for a second before she gave him a faint smile. "Ah, thanks. Dawson likes a fire in the main room almost all the time." 

"Lead the way." As Blair followed Lisa, he chatted on. "I'm from Cascade. Finishing up my schooling. Have you been to college? It's a hell of a lot more work than I dreamed! I'm lucky I made it this far." He laughed. When she shook her head, he said, "But I'm sure you would have sailed through. It's always harder than you think. My car broke down this week and I hate when that happens. Here, let me get the door." Blair skittered around her and pulled the back door open. Walking through after her into the kitchen, he sniffed deeply. "Wow, something smells good. I'm really hungry. I could eat a horse." 

"I'll take the kindling now." 

"I can take it into the main room for you if you like." 

Lisa looked uncomfortable. "No," she said, glancing nervously around. "It's okay." 

Not wanting to push his luck, Blair handed Lisa the bag before he started lifting the lids from pots. "Yum. I'm starving! Did you fix this? It smells great!" 

Lisa again looked around, fright showing on her face. "Please... If Emmet were to..." 

Blair helped himself to a carrot from the counter, knowing he was being pushy and obnoxious. "Emmet? Oh, right! I met him when I came in! Kind of funny, isn't he? What's through there?" He started toward the door on the far wall. 

"It goes to the main part of the lodge." 

"Let's go start that fire, then." 

"No, really, I can do it..." Lisa started backing toward the door when it swung open. 

"My dear," Emmet said with a flourish, "what is taking so long with that combustible material? You know how he gets." He waved an expressive hand toward the front of the lodge. "At this very moment, he's doing a fine rendition of a first class hissy fit. Do you want him to -?" Emmet's words dried up when he saw Blair, but not before Blair saw the surprise on his face. It was quickly replaced by a friendly smile. "Oh, hello! One of our newest arrivals, I see." 

Blair grinned. "Lisa was showing me around." 

"How so very cordial of our Lisa!" Emmet cast a glance at Lisa that Blair could only describe as - odd. 

"Yeah. Thanks, Lisa. I appreciate the tour." Blair waved bye toward the unhappy girl. He watched while Emmet gave her a nod, making shushing motions with his hands to hurry her along. Taking the hint, she scurried away. 

"This is such a great place! I can't wait to take a good, long hike tomorrow. Hell, maybe I'll take a look around tonight. No time like the present," Blair chattered. "So you do all the cooking as well? What's for dinner? I'm starving." 

Emmet smiled indulgently, and from his look, Blair could tell that he'd made the impression that he'd wanted - kind of dorky and a royal pain in the ass, not to mention not overly intelligent and a chatterbox. 

"Dinner will be served in the dining area at precisely six P.M. But in the meantime, how about we have a nice, hot cup of my special cocoa?" 

"Oh, cool!" Blair said enthusiastically. "I love cocoa." He sat on a stool near the kitchen island and watched Emmet intently while he fixed the beverage, his mannerisms quite theatrical. Blair knew Emmet was definitely playing to his audience. When he sipped at the drink Emmet placed before him, Blair figured the more he showed his enthusiasm, the better it was for his cause. He licked his lips appreciatively. "Wow. Really good. All I ever have is the instant kind." 

With a wrinkling of his nose, Emmet shook his head in obvious distaste. "In my kitchen, there is no "instant kind"." He puffed out his thin chest. "I serve only the finest cuisine. Each item I present is made by my own hands, from scratch, as they say," he added proudly, tying on a gaudily flowered apron. 

"Everything? That's great. I love to eat." 

"As do I. Do you enjoy the skill of cooking, my friend?" 

"Nah. I'm too busy with school. It's usually take out or something frozen." 

Emmet again wrinkled his nose daintily. "Then you are in for a treat beyond measure. This evening's repast will include a savory eggplant bake and my own delightful recipe for sweet potato souffle. But before we partake of these fine dishes, we will sample my flavorful almond mushroom pate on toast points. Crusts removed, of course." Emmet scurried around as he worked on his feast. "Let us not forget the grand finale to any meal - dessert. I have prepared a blackberry torte. It is beyond expectation. One of the locals toils in the earth to provide fresh berries for our establishment's benefit." 

"I'm impressed. I don't think I've ever had a menu sound so wonderful. How many other people are staying at the lodge?" 

"Currently, it is what we lovingly call the off season. Not to mention that recently, the lodge has had renovations which did not allow us to entertain guests, so this fine weekend, yourself and your delightful mother are our only responsibilities." 

"Really? I would have thought with the pleasant mountain weather, you'd be full to capacity." 

"By the end of the month, we expect a substantial increase in vagabonds winding their way up the mountain lanes to partake in our bounties." Emmet gave Blair a dazzling smile. "But for now, you are our only concern." 

"Cool," Blair said with a grin, ignoring Emmet's carefully concealed yet unmistakable invitation. Being hit on by women - and men - wasn't an unusual situation, but Emmet definitely wasn't his type. Hoping his disguise of ineptness in social situations showed through, he smiled again. "That's really nice of you. I know my mother will enjoy the dinner a lot!" Hopping down from his seat, he said, "Thanks. And thanks for the cocoa. I'll be going on that walk now. I think I'll explore a bit." Blair carefully watched Emmet's face for any signs of distress over his plan, but he saw nothing but calmness with a hint of amusement at what Emmet obviously saw as Blair's lack of culture. 

"Don't forget, my friend" Emmet said with a patiently indulgent smile. "Dinner will be served promptly in thirty minutes." 

"I won't forget! How could I with all the great smells!" Blair waved like a five year old before he trotted out the back door and down the porch steps. "God, Blair, you can act like a total dork when you need to." Blair chuckled as he headed toward one of the unoccupied cabins. Glancing around, he casually walked around two or three of the small cabins, hands shoved in his pockets. He listened carefully, but didn't hear any noises emanating from inside the vacant cabins, nor did he see any tell-tale signs that Steven was being kept in any of them. In fact, he didn't see any signs of anybody using the cabins recently. "He'd be tied up, of course," Blair muttered, "and gagged. Or worse, maybe he's hurt and can't call for help." Stopping, Blair looked around, considering what to do next. "Maybe he's already dead," he admitted to himself. "Poor Jim." 

After walking around for about fifteen or twenty minutes in what he hoped was an aimless fashion in case anybody was watching, he turned back toward the cabin he was sharing with his mother to get ready for dinner. He hadn't seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. With a resigned sigh, all he could do was hope that Jim was okay, that Steven was still alive, and with determination, he considered what his next step would be. 

\-----------------------------------

Blair flopped down onto his bed with a tired groan. Naomi's bright laughter tickled his ears, and he managed to smile at her. 

"Emmet certainly is - flamboyant. Isn't he, sweetie?" Naomi hung up her jacket and picked a few pieces of lint from her black jeans. "But the food was wonderful!" 

Blair closed his eyes, listening to his mother move about the cabin, getting out her night things. Dinner had been first rate and he had eaten ravenously. Now, with a full belly, he'd almost drifted off to sleep when he felt his mother's presence hovering over him. His eyes opened slowly. Naomi was smiling down at him and as she gave him a loving glance, she started to put a blanket over him. 

"It's okay, sweetie. You're exhausted from last night. Why don't you turn in?" 

Blair groaned. "Don't remind me." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I am tired." 

"I'm going to wash up and then I'm going to meditate. It's so peaceful here!" 

Giving his mother an indulgent smile, he pushed himself from the bed. "I'm going for a walk." 

"Blair, it's almost ten o'clock and pitch dark out! Not to mention, you're tired out. We shouldn't have sat by the fireplace for so long." 

"But Mom! You know why I'm going out! I have to find Steven, and if there's anything going on, I have to see what it is!" 

Naomi bit her lower lip. "I know! I understand that. I'm just worried about you!" 

"Mom, I'll be fine." Blair slipped from the bed and after rummaging around through the kitchen area, found a flashlight. Flicking the switch on and off, he made sure it had plenty of power before he slipped it into his pocket. "I saw some kind of building through the trees earlier before dinner, but I didn't have time to check it out. It's far enough away from the main lodge that they could be keeping Steven there and we wouldn't know about it. Besides, I'm sure he'd be tied and gagged, so even if he banged around, we couldn't hear from the main compound." 

"Do you want me to go with you?" 

"No. I'll be okay." Blair leaned over and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "You go and meditate. I'll be back before you know it." With a parting smile, he slipped out of the cabin. 

\--------------------------------------

Standing on the small cabin porch, Blair allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he walked down the steps. Lights still burned in the main lodge, casting patches of light onto the ground. He avoided the squares and kept to the shadows, heading toward the building he'd spied earlier. The moon shone down half full, giving Blair enough light to navigate. He paused once or twice, glancing upward, admiring the countless points of light dusting the night sky. The constellations seemed close enough to touch, and he reached out a hand, imaginatively grasping a handful of stars in his palm. With a grin, Blair shoved his hands back into his pockets and returned to his quest. 

Five minutes later, he saw the rough-hewn logs ahead. He stopped and listened. The bark of a coyote sounded to his left, and was quickly followed by an answering call from his right. Suddenly, from directly behind him, he heard the snap of a twig. Blair whirled around, eyes wide and ears straining. He stood very still, waiting for another sound. The flap of wings startled Blair. The air from the wings brushed by his face and he stumbled backward, landing on his butt with a small thump. With his heart pounding in his ears, he stayed down for a long moment until his heart rate started to settle. A loud hoot from over his head had him shaking his head in exasperation at his own fear. It seemed he wasn't the only thing out hunting tonight. A large owl had apparently been startled from its perch by his approach and took refuge in what it must have deemed a safer place. With a sigh, he rose, dusting off his backside. 

"Geez, Blair, give yourself a heart attack, why don't you?" he muttered, turning back toward his destination. He'd walked along one wall of the building before he stopped. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he spun around. Somebody was watching him. He just knew it. Blair quietly walked along one of the walls of the building, intending to look around the back when another twig snapped, this time right beside him. 

Blair turned, raising the flashlight. Before he could click the on button, a burst of light flared before his eyes. 

"Mr. Sandburg," a voice said from behind the glare. 

Blair held the flashlight in a tight grip, ready to do battle, when he saw the face that belonged with the voice in the lighter's glow. "Mr. Quinn?" Flicking on the flashlight, he watched as his host lit his cigarette and waited until the man blew out a puff of smoke. 

"Kind of late for a walk, isn't it?" Quinn said conversationally. 

"I like it at night." 

"There are creatures who would have you for dinner, Mr. Sandburg." 

Blair shrugged. "I trust in nature. There's easier prey than little old me," he said laughingly. "Besides, I'm pretty quick. I'll just run away." 

Quinn laughed coldly, looking at Blair like he was the stupidest city slicker he'd seen in a long time. "Have you been in the woods much, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"No, but it's fun and exciting. Well, I've been camping a couple of times. There's a nice campground outside of Cascade."

"Ah," Quinn said. "Yes, a campground. How - back to nature." 

"Yeah. They have a pool and showers and a basketball court." Blair watched Quinn's eyebrow raise before he turned amused eyes on Blair. "You are the adventurous one, aren't you?" 

Blair shrugged. "I like animals. I wanted to see an owl. What's this building used for?" 

"We don't use it for anything. It's old and the floor is rotted through, not to mention the roof leaks and there's no plumbing or electrical wiring. It's not safe, so I suggest you don't explore. You could break a leg." Quinn puffed on his cigarette, eyeing Blair carefully. "There are a lot of dangerous places out here, Mr. Sandburg. Why not far from here is an old mining camp. It might look like some place to explore, but it's riddled with dangerous caves and old mining shafts. Somebody could easily be buried under a rock slide or fall into a deep hole, and never be found." Another puff, then Quinn tossed the butt to the ground and crushed it under his boot. "It's best to avoid places like that. Come on. l make sure you get back to your cabin safely." 

"Nah, that's okay. I know the way." 

Quinn watched him through half-closed eyes before he slowly nodded. "You're sure?" 

"Yes, I'm cool. Good night." Blair grinned happily, rocking back onto his heels. 

"It's your skin." Quinn tossed his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. 

Blair watched while Quinn walked away, keeping his flashlight trained on the man until he disappeared. He figured that searching the building for Steven was now a waste of time. There was no way the man would have let Blair stay behind if he was keeping a kidnap victim hidden here. But still, he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched, and not by Dawson Quinn. Using the flashlight, Blair skirted the building, calling, "Jim? Man, I know you're here. Come on, Jim. Give me a sign. I need to know you're okay." He searched for a few more minutes, knowing in his heart that Jim had been here on the same mission he was on - searching for Steven. 

Blair stood at the bottom of a small set of stairs that led up to the back door of the abandoned building. With a shrug, Blair climbed the stairs and for his own peace of mind, he pointed the flashlight through the windows. Through the dirty glass, he could see that the building was empty. He turned the light so that he could examine the corners of the room, but still, it was obvious that no one had been inside for many years. The floor was thick with dust and nothing had disturbed it that he could see. With a sigh, Blair walked to the top of the steps and leaned against one of the columns that held up the overhanging roof. He scratched his head, deciding that tonight's mission had proven fruitless. He'd try again tomorrow, and widen his search. 

Trotting down the few steps, he stumbled on the next to the bottom one. He reached out and caught himself on the wooden railing. After he straightened himself up, Blair hopped to the ground before he stopped and realized that he'd touched something sticky with his hand. 

"Oh, great," he muttered, thinking that he'd run his hand through some residual owl droppings or some other equally disgusting substance. Turning the flashlight on his palm, his heart stopped when he saw his skin was covered with blood. 

"Jim!" he whispered. "I knew it! You were here. And damn it to hell. You're bleeding again." 

\-----------------------------------

Silently, Naomi and Blair hiked for a few minutes, their energy momentarily focused on scaling a large hill. Once at the top, they followed the ridge line for a while, and resumed their musings. 

"How can you be sure it was Jim last night?" Naomi asked, stopping to peer down at the vegetation growing around a large boulder. 

Blair stopped also, and gave a shrug. "I just - know." At Naomi's quizzical glance, he shook his head. "Don't ask me how!" 

Naomi smiled. "You and your friend Jim seem to have some sort of connection, sweetie." 

"Connection?" 

"Yes. It's obvious." 

"It is?" 

"Blair, you know exactly what I'm saying. Ever since you've been a small child, you've been able to - connect with people, certain people to be sure, but it's a gift. You seem to know the ones who need you; who need your help. You remember Barry back in the third grade, don't you?" 

Blair smiled with remembrance. "Of course." 

"He needed a friend badly, and you knew it. He was an unusual child, always given to flights of fancy –” At Blair's snort, Naomi smiled. "Yes, you were often like that. You still are. But I remember how - calm and happy Barry was at our house. Nothing like the unhappy, overly active child his parents complained about. You have a gift, Blair. You center people who need a calming influence. I think this is coming out with your Jim. And you know Jim needs you." 

Blair slowly nodded. "He does. And so does Steven. I just know it." 

"Then let's see what we can find." 

Blair put a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "Thanks, Mom." 

"You're welcome. Oh, look! I love columbines." 

Blair watched indulgently while his mother admired a large stand of blue flowers that clung to the rocky ground. He took the time to look around, wishing he had some sort of enhanced sense like Jim did so that he could see or hear or smell what could be happening beyond his normal range. 

"Which way, Blair?" 

Naomi asked the question with a look on her face that conveyed her trust in him, making Blair smile at the warmth that spread through his body. His mother not only loved him, she had confidence in him. Blair never hesitated when he followed his instincts. "This way." 

\----------------------------------

"Oh, look!" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah. A cabin." 

"Do you think... Blair!" 

Following Naomi's gaze, Blair saw the figure of a woman as she came out of the windowless building and after locking the door behind her, nervously glanced around. In her hand, she carried a large metal bucket. Blair moved quickly, making enough noise to scare every animal with in a mile radius, and approached the woman with a grin on his face. 

"Lisa!" 

Lisa's head snapped up and her face took on a look of utter terror. It was obvious that in spite of Blair's noisy approach, she hadn't been paying attention and was startled. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she uttered, "Oh!" 

"You remember my mom?" Blair said in greeting, trying to see what was in the bucket that she carried. 

"Y-yes." Lisa passed the bucket from one hand to the other several times. Her discomfort hit Blair full in the face, but he kept his expression open and friendly. 

"This is such a cool cabin," he said enthusiastically, hiding his irritation that the bucket's contents were hidden under a thick piece of cloth. He resisted the urge to grab it from her fingers to look and see if there was evidence that somebody was being held captive here - somebody who needed to be fed. Chattering, he thought about bumping into her to knock it from her hands, but she didn't give him a chance to get close. The girl walked backward away from him and his mother as they stepped closer, one pale hand clasping her throat. Blair was surprised that she hadn't fainted, from the look of fright in her eyes and the way she held her breath. "How old is it, do you think? Man, it looks like it's from the original Lewis and Clark Expedition!" 

Blair walked toward the door and turned the knob. Rattling the locked handle, he continued his monologue, "Of course, it looks old enough. I'm an anthropologist; I can tell about these things. And Lewis and Clark could very well have traveled through these very woods." Blair tugged on the door knob again. "Did you know," he asked, looking directly at Lisa, eyes wide and innocent, "that they actually made it to the Pacific in December, 1805? Can you imagine what the country looked like back then?" Blair finally paused, giving Lisa a moment to respond. When all she did was shake her head, Blair grinned. "Tribes of Indians. Elk herds and deer everywhere... and wolves! Pumas and beaver and raccoons. Rivers raging with deep water and mountains reaching the heavens. Can we look inside? There could be historical evidence! That would be wonderful to see." 

Looking trapped, Lisa numbly nodded, holding out her hand. Blair took the key from her slightly shaking fingers with trembling fingers of his own. His adrenaline was raging; would this be the moment he found Jim's brother? "Mom, take some pictures!" 

Knowingly, Naomi smiled widely and after retrieving her camera, while Blair unlocked the door and stepped inside, she jabbered at Lisa about camera angles and which button to press to take a picture of Naomi standing next to the dwelling. Ignoring the women, Blair inspected the small cabin. 

There were two rooms separated by an unfinished board wall with a doorless opening. One room was bare to the dirt floor and Blair could see it had been recently swept. An old straw broom stood against the door frame by the entrance and when he picked up the broom and shook it, dirt fell from the ends. He set it down and walked into the second room. There was an old army cot that had seen better days. The green canvas was dusty and full of holes, and Blair doubted that it could have held a man's weight. There were a few odd pieces of tin cookware strewn about, but otherwise, the simple cabin didn't even have a fireplace, and there was no evidence that anybody had been here in a long time. But why keep an abandoned cabin, out here in the woods, locked? 

With an exasperated sigh, Blair returned to the front of the cabin where, from the corner of his eye, he saw something move. He turned swiftly, and the small brown mouse froze in place. Blair stared at the little rodent for a long second before he noticed that the animal carried something in its mouth. He looked carefully, and recognized the item as a small crust of bread. When he moved toward the mouse, it quickly skittered down the wall and into a small hole. Blair bent over and peeked into the mouse's domain. He saw a tiny sliver of light and realized that the little critter had access to the outside through its burrow. When he examined the hole more closely, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he wasn't surprised when he saw a small pile of bread crumbs stored in the mouse's home. And the bread didn't look old at all. 

Straightening up, Blair crossed to the doorway and exited. He smiled at his companions. "Maybe Lisa will take a few pictures of you and me, Mom?" 

Naomi smiled warmly. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, dear." Not giving the woman a chance to refuse, Naomi moved to stand beside her son and slipped an arm across his shoulders. Blair wrapped an arm around his mother's waist and together, they grinned at the camera. Lisa had no choice but to snap several pictures. Finally, Blair took the camera from the pale, cold fingers. 

"Thanks, Lisa! Naomi and I are going to head out. We need to find a nice place to have our lunch that Emmet so kindly packed for us. And Naomi wants to see some of the fields of wildflowers that I saw yesterday. Can you get back to the lodge by yourself?" he added unnecessarily. 

Lisa nodded, and with a look of what Blair could describe only as desperation, she turned and ran off. 

\--------------------------------------

"He was there." 

Naomi didn't question her son, but nodded. "What are we going to do? Do you think they - disposed of the body?" 

Blair sighed, rubbing his eyes. "She could have been cleaning up while they - buried him. It's possible." 

"It makes more sense, sweetie." 

"Why's that?" Blair asked quietly, shoulders slumped. 

"Why would they need to keep Steven alive? What good could holding a hostage do anyway? I'm sure he'd be able to identify them if they let him live. It just doesn't make sense." 

Blair chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he said, "If they want to know what Jim knows, they could be keeping Steven alive as a bargaining chip. Think about it. As long as they hold Steven, they know Jim's not going to go running off to the authorities. They know he's going to stay right here and try to rescue his brother. They can make some sort of - trade, maybe." 

Slowly, Naomi nodded. "I agree - to a point." 

Blair's gaze met his mother's. "Until they feel more - comfortable about what Jim knows or doesn't know, and then they can... get rid of all the witnesses." 

Naomi stepped closer to her son. "Or they've already found Jim and now they're tying up loose ends." 

"No! I don't think so. Jim is too - smart for that! He's special and he'd be able to handle himself." Blair crossed his arms, unhappy at the thought of Jim possibly being dead. 

"Blair, I'm not trying to upset you, but you don't know this man all that well, and you did say he was hurt. It's possible that these - others found him during the night. You said he was near the lodge." 

Blair shook his head vehemently. "No, he's not dead. I have to try and find him. I have to tell him that Steven was here. Maybe he could investigate. There could be some clues that I can't see or hear or smell." 

Naomi's eyebrows rose. "What?" 

Blair swallowed. "Nothing," he muttered. 

"Blair Sandburg, don't you dare obfuscate with me!" 

Blair shuffled his foot. "Sorry." Raising his eyes, he repeated, "I'm sorry, Mom. Jim told me things that I just can't tell you right now. They were in confidence and I can't betray his trust. Not even with you." 

Naomi put a hand on Blair's arm and smiled. "It's okay, Blair. I understand about loyalty." 

"Thanks. Now why don't you go back to the lodge? I don't want to arouse any suspicions, and if you go back, you can field any questions about me not being there." 

"Are you sure you can find Jim?" 

Blair smiled. "Don't worry. Jim will find me. I'll be back before dark."

Naomi didn't question Blair further. She split the lunch that Emmet had packed for them, then gave Blair a kiss on the cheek and admonished him to be careful before she headed back. 

"I will," Blair said, watching his mother's retreating back before he turned toward higher ground to search for Jim.

\------------------------------

Blair started off on his uphill trek with a heavy heart. He wondered what Jim would say when he told him that there was no trace of Steven. That he had been held hostage, but now he was gone. How could he tell Jim that his brother was more than likely, dead? His mother was right. There was no good reason to keep Steven alive, and what's more, it made more sense to kill Jim and Simon also. Their bodies might never be found in the wilderness. There were cougars and bears and wolves... A body could easily be disposed of. 

Sure, Blair knew, that Simon wouldn't willingly let anything happen to Jim, but what if Quinn or his partner had already taken care of that situation. Simon could have easily been shot from a distance with a high-powered rifle, and Jim would have been next. An easy target, in his condition. His heightened senses might have been some help, but his physical situation wouldn't have let him put up much of a fight. 

Blair sighed, plodding along on leaden legs. He came upon the old mining camp that Quinn had warned him about. Quinn had made it very clear that it was dangerous, with hidden wells and crumbling mining shafts, and not to even dare walk through the abandoned property. To do so could mean injury or even worse because of the danger of falling hundreds of feet into an abandoned well or from the roof of a deteriorated mining shaft dropping tons of rock and dirt onto an unsuspecting explorer. 

He stood on the periphery of the area, scanning the various broken-down buildings and pieces of rusty machinery. The mouth of the mining tunnel was partially obscured by fallen timbers and in the center of the camp was an old well with a piece of broken rope dangling from the spindle. Huffing out a calming breath, he started to examine the area. Since Quinn had emphatically warned him off, it was the first place he wanted to check out. 

Blair walked by the old well and couldn't resist glancing down. The dark maw gaped at him, making him shiver. He remembered that creepy movie, The Ring. Suddenly envisioning horrible creatures reaching to drag him into the inky depths, he jumped back. Laughing nervously at his own foolishness, he quickly turned away from the well. 

Blair had barely taken a step when his foot slipped on the mud and into a puddle. "Shit," he groused when his boot splashed into the muddy water. He shook his foot off, glancing down at the waterproof boot, happy that he had spent the money on quality footwear. With a glance at the puddle, he grimaced before something caught his eye. Footprints; lots of them, and they were fresh. He touched the edges of one of the deep tracks; the mud was still soft under his finger. Walking around the area, he saw more tracks, and upon further examination, found at least three sets of bootprints that he could readily identify. The main area of interest seemed to be the abandoned well. 

Again, Blair walked back over to the well and peered down. He couldn't see further than the first nine or ten feet because of the angle of the sun, but what he could see looked unsavory. The original walls of the well were shored up with thick strips of rough lumber, many of which were hanging in broken strips of rotted wood. Digging through his backpack, Blair found a flashlight and after flipping it on, he pointed the beam of light into the dark hole. 

Carefully examining the walls, Blair could see where the areas had been recently disturbed. He wondered exactly what was going on. Since he knew about recent events with the group from the retreat, he also knew that whatever was going on here had to be related to them. Why would this area be so busy unless there was something important hidden in here? Maybe whatever they were doing was tied in to whatever they were looking for. He considered this idea for a long minute before he decided it made perfect sense. If the little band of murderers had a history, which he figured they did, maybe they were part of some crime, a bank robbery or jewelry heist, from more than a few years ago. This would be a perfect place to hide the loot. Lay low and run the retreat as a front until the heat was off, and still be close to their booty. Then take the goods, split them up, and hit the road, each man or woman going their separate ways. 

But what about the killing of one of their own? Maybe somebody had second thoughts and wanted to turn over the profits of their crime to the authorities. Blair snorted. "Yeah, right," he muttered. "More than likely, they were fighting over who got the bigger share. Or maybe the dead guy was in a hurry to divvy up the loot when he was killed during an internal dispute." Blair's eyes grew wide. That had to be it. Dead guy was tired of waiting. It could very well have been years since the original crime had been committed, and like any good criminal, he wanted his share. His impatience got him killed, and now, there was more to share. He wondered briefly why they hadn't killed Lisa because, to Blair, she didn't seem at all happy with the current arrangements. 

He looked down the well again before glancing over at the mining shaft, where more tracks could be seen. With a grimace of distaste, he walked over to the dark tunnel and peered inside. With a shiver at the uninviting maw, he again used his flashlight to look inside. After examining the area that he could see from the entrance of the mining tunnel, he steeled himself to take a step inside. He'd no sooner crossed the threshold when he heard ominous creaking from deeper in the shaft. A snap of rotting timber and the sounds of a cave-in sent him scurrying back into the sunlight. With a last glance at the dangerous cave, and after filing away the information he'd just seen to pass along to Jim when he saw him, he hurried away from the area. 

\--------------------------------

Half an hour later found Blair making good progress. He stopped by his original spot on the creek where the stones were arranged as a bridge; where he had initially crossed that first day. He hopped across the rocks and jumped off the last one to land with both feet on the soft earth. Blair's gaze automatically swept the muddy bank and his body froze. There in the mud was a perfect footprint. A man's print, made with what looked like the tread from the same type of hiking boots Jim had been wearing, and the size looked pretty close as well. The footprint could be Jim's! Or maybe even... Had Jim told him anything about Steven's physical size? They were brothers; maybe they were the same height and weight... and maybe their shoe size was similar. 

Walking along, Blair kept his eyes peeled for more prints. The ground was dry away from the creek and the prints disappeared, but he saw a broken branch, then a place where the grass had been crushed, and had not yet sprung back up. He bent down and touched the vegetation, trying to figure out how long it had been since whomever had come this way had stepped here. Straightening up, Blair followed the path until he couldn't see any more indications of the person's direction. He was just about to give up his pursuit and return to his search for Jim when he heard the snap of a twig. 

Turning around and listening intently, Blair waited. All of the birds had fallen silent. The only sound he could hear was the creek off to his left as it tumbled down the rocks on its race to lower ground. He considered that the birds were usually quiet when someone or something was nearby. He moved quietly, pushing aside some brush and made his way toward the creek, which lay hidden from sight. Carefully peering between two blooming mountain laurel bushes, Blair's eyes grew wide when he saw a man hunkered down next to the creek scooping handfuls of water to his mouth. The build and the light brown hair, the blue jeans and the Timberland hiking boots were eerily familiar; Blair rose and moved forward. 

Something must have alerted the man because he swiftly rose and after sparing a glance over his shoulder, when he saw Blair, he took off across the creek, splashing through icy water. Clambering out the other side, he started up the bank as quickly as he could. 

Blair raced to the edge of the creek. "Hey! Wait!" The man's escape never slowed. Blair put his hands up to frame his mouth and shouted, "Steven?" The man's steps faltered before he stopped and turned. Blue eyes searched his face, and Blair felt a stab of familiarity. This was definitely Jim's brother and with a sigh of relief, Blair grinned and moved closer. Even though he saw the fear in the man's eyes, he could see the flare of hope also, that he, a stranger, had called him by name. Blair waved a hand and called out, "Steven! I'm a friend of Jim's! He's been looking everywhere for you!" 

\----------------------------- 

Steven wolfed down the sandwich Blair handed to him. He drank the bottled water in just a few gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Thanks." 

"Sure, man. Any time. You ready to move on?" 

"Yes. Thanks. I can't believe it! I was sure he was dead." Steven's eyes filled and he swiped his fingers across them. "He's alive. Thank God." 

Blair smiled. "He was doing okay when I left him and Simon. They had food and water, and clean clothes. I know they've been scouring the entire forest for you! He's been so worried!" 

"I know how he feels," Steven responded, touching the black and blue spot on his temple. "When I saw him fall... Well, I didn't care what happened to me. My big brother was dead and that was all I cared about. I tried to get to him, but they grabbed me before I could get into the gully. I lashed out, screaming. Then everything went black." Steven shrugged. "When I came to, I was tied up and gagged. I couldn't see or hear anything. The place didn't have any windows and the only way out, if I could have gotten out, was one locked door." 

"Yeah, I found the cabin, but you were gone by that time. How did you get away?" 

"She let me go." 

Blair's eyebrow rose. "She did?" 

Steven nodded, picking at a broken fingernail. "She was the one who fed me. I think she convinced them not to kill me on the spot. She didn't say much, but she was - sad. I couldn't talk to her, of course, but I could see it in her eyes. She didn't like what they were doing, but I don't think she could stop them. I think saving me was something she had to do, even if it meant being at odds with the rest of them." 

"So you don't have a clue what they're up to?" 

Steven shook his head, rising and brushing off his dirty jeans. "No. I never saw anybody but the woman and she never talked to me. She was crying once when she came in, and I think somebody hit her. She had a bad bruise on her cheek." 

Blair started up the path. "The place where I left Jim and Simon is this way." 

"Is it far?" 

"Maybe an hour's hike." 

Steven's face brightened. "I'll see Jim in an hour!" he said happily, making Blair grin. 

"Come on!" Blair said encouragingly, and headed up the mountain. 

\----------------------------------

Blair and Steven stood staring down at the ground at their feet. The earth had obviously been disturbed, and from the size and shape, they both knew it was a grave. The men exchanged worried glances before Steven fell to his knees, and began digging with both hands. Blair tugged on his shoulders. 

"No! It's not him! Steven, come on. Don't!" 

"I have to see. I have to look. I have to!" Steven briefly glanced over his shoulder, his face white. "I have to... I have to..." 

Blair dropped to his knees and silently, the men scooped away the dirt. When Blair's hand hit something solid, his stomach churned. He brushed away the dirty and saw... brown Timberland hiking boots. The exact same boots he'd loosed the ties on that first night in the cabin. "Oh, God!" he gasped, sitting back on his backside. 

Steven wiped his face with a dirty hand, smearing mud across his cheek. Tears mixed with the dirt, leaving tracks across his skin. "Jim!" He scraped a large chunk of dirt away, exposing part of an arm clad a dirty, blood-stained denim shirt with the sleeve cut away. Sobbing, he dug faster. 

Blair furiously blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. He knew without a doubt that it was Jim's shirt. He'd been the one to cut through the material. He rose, yanking on Steven's arm. "No! Steven, please! No! There's nothing you can do!" 

Steven half rose before he stumbled backward to land on his backside. His hands covered his face and his shoulders shook. Blair sank down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his own tears trailing down his face. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, rubbing Steven's shoulder with a dirty hand. "Come on." Steven shook off Blair's hand. "Please, Steven... Let's try and find Simon. Maybe he's still alive, and he might need help." 

Steven finally raised his tear-streaked dirty face, and slowly he nodded. Silently, he rose and stood, staring down at the exposed arm and boot. "Jim," he whispered, his voice full of sadness. "I love you, big brother." 

"We'll... come back. Make sure he has a... proper place to rest. I promise you we will." 

Steven turned away from his brother's grave, and with Blair close behind, they set off together. 

\------------------------------

Plodding along, Blair's feet felt as if they each weighed a thousand pounds. His heart ached for Steven, and for himself. He knew without a doubt that Jim was somebody special, and he mourned the fact that he never got to know the man better; that he never explored the special feeling he'd experienced when he met Jim. 

"Do you ever feel," Blair asked, "that you've just missed out on something wonderful? Something that will never happen again the rest of your life?" Steven gave Blair a sad glance, making Blair nod in sympathy. "Yeah, I guess you do. I mean, I only knew Jim a few days, but... I can't tell you how sorry I am." 

Steven returned Blair's nod with one of his own. Blair put a hand on his arm. "Let's hope we can find Simon." Silently, the men walked on, sometimes side by side, sometimes single file with Blair in the lead. They were walking along a ridge line overlooking a meadow when Blair grabbed Steven's arm and yanked him down behind a rock. 

"What?" Steven asked, shaking off Blair's hold. 

"Down there! Look!" 

Both men peered down into the wide meadow spread out at the foot of the steep embankment. A man walked out of the tree line and into the meadow for a few feet. He stopped and glanced around before he moved back under the trees' shadows. Staying under the overhang of branches, Blair could see the man's shape as he walked along. 

"It's Simon!" Steven said softly, starting to rise. 

Blair nodded, relieved to have found Simon, when something caught his eye. From a couple of hundred feet away, another man emerged from the opposite side of the meadow, and raised a hand. Wearing camouflage clothing and a military-style hat, Blair recognized the outfit immediately. He reached out and yanked Steven back down. 

"Isn't he one of them?" he hissed. 

Steven held a hand over his eyes. His mouth formed a tight line and his eyes narrowed. "What the fuck?" Turning to gaze at Blair, he nodded curtly. "It's one of the men from the road! The one who shot at us! Why is Simon with him?" 

The men stared at each other silently for a moment before Blair swallowed hard. "There's only one reason..." 

"No." Steven vehemently shook his head. "No way! I've known Simon Banks for many years! He wouldn't! He couldn't! He and Jim are friends! He's my friend!" 

"Man, look!" Blair cocked his head toward the two men, who stood barely a foot apart. From the distance, they seemed to be talking, heads bent toward each other. The man with Simon reached out a hand and put it on Simon's shoulder. Simon didn't object in any way that Blair could see. In fact, he raised his own hand and put it on his companion's shoulder, and they certainly looked like they were friendly. "This is terrible." 

"I'll kill the son-of-a bitch with my own hands." Steven's face grew hard and his eyes were like cold steel. 

"They're leaving." Blair nodded toward the men again. They watched as the men parted, each taking different directions back into the forest, disappearing from sight. The killer's path took him away from Blair and Steven's position, but as luck would have it, Simon swiftly crossed the meadow and started up the hill toward where they hunkered down. "They're still looking for you, apparently. Since we already know..." Blair swallowed hard, unable to say the words. 

"We'll ambush him," Steven said softly, his voice full of hate. "No way I'm leaving Jim's... killer free." 

Blair didn't need to consider the suggestion. He merely nodded, his own heart heavy with thoughts of betrayal by someone who was supposed to be a trusted friend. They waited until they were sure of Simon's direction and each took up a position where they would be able to catch him off guard. Not even thinking about what they were going to do with the man when they took him down, Blair waited, his heart pounding. He heard stones being dislodged from the side of the hill as Simon climbed toward the ridge. With his heart in his throat, he watched from his hidden position until he saw Simon's head emerge above the top of the hill. Clenching his fists, he watched while Simon stood on the ridge, and with a set of binoculars, scanned the meadow below him. After a few moments, he turned toward the forest and walked in their direction. 

Blair knew Steven was a few yards closer, but he was still surprised when Steven launched himself from behind a large tree and tackled Simon's legs. The big man fell with a thud, and not wasting a second, Steven was on his back, pummeling the man's shoulders and head with his fists. 

"You worthless motherfucker!" Steven screamed, his fists falling in sickening thuds. "Coward! You killed him!" 

Blair rushed forward while Simon cried aloud, trying to raise his hands to protect his head. When Blair reached the men, he grabbed one of the downed man's arms by the wrist and bent it against his back, pushing hard enough toward the back of Simon's neck to make him cry out in pain. 

"Stop!" Blair yelled, his free hand reaching out to grab Steven's wrist as he continued to hit Simon. "He's down. Steven, stop!" 

Steven froze, his hands falling to his sides. He rose to his knees still straddling the downed man, his chest heaving, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Why?" he cried, his hand grabbing a fistful of Simon's shirt. "He treated you like a brother, you son-of-a bitch! You killed him for what? Money?" 

Simon squirmed, but when Blair pushed against his arm, he grunted. 

"Stay still!" Blair hissed. 

Simon stopped moving. "Sandburg?" he asked, his voice full of surprise. In seconds, his tone changed to anger. "Get the hell off me! What the –” 

"He was your friend," Steven sobbed, shoving the heel of his hand hard against Simon's back.

"What the hell are you -?" Simon growled. 

Before he could finish his sentence, Blair pressed a hand against the side of his face. "Move again, and you're in major trouble," Blair hissed. "Shut up. Just shut up!" To Steven, he said, "Search him." 

With a curt nod, Steven patted Simon down, retrieving his pistol from his shoulder holster, a hunting knife in a sheath on his belt, and a menacing-looking pocket knife from his pants. Blair let out a disgusted sigh. "We have to find something to tie him up with." 

"Sandburg, please! Tie me up? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Simon bellowed. "What's going on?" 

"How could you?" Steven cried, rising and pacing beside the downed man. "He trusted you! I trusted you!" 

Simon stopped struggling. "Steven?" he asked. "You're alive!" 

"No thanks to you, apparently," Steven said menacingly. 

"Sandburg, let me up!" 

"Save it, Banks. You're not going anywhere. You don't fool us one little bit!" Looking up at Steven, Blair asked, "What should we do with him?" 

"Kill him," Steven said flatly. 

Blair shook his head. "You don't mean that. I know how much you loved Jim, but I can't. I just can't." 

Steven let out a deep sigh. "I know." His shoulders slumped when he finally said, "Let's tie him up good and tight, and then go for help." 

"Right." Blair rose to his knees. "Here, use my belt." After he pressed his knee into Simon's back, he quickly unbuckled his belt with one hand while keeping a close eye on his prisoner. He yanked it off and tossed it to Steven. Together, they pinned back Simon's arms so that Steven could wrap the leather around Simon's large wrists. "Is it tight?" Blair asked, tugging on leather to test it. "Seems okay." He rose and stood beside Steven, looking down at their prisoner, the killer of Jim Ellison. 

"I can't believe he's dead," Steven whispered, slipping Simon's pistol into his waistband. He tossed the hunting knife into the brush and looked down at the pocketknife he still held in his hand before absentmindedly handing it to Blair. "Keep it... just in case." 

Blair gingerly took the knife and dropped it into his jacket pocket. "We need to –” Looking at his companion while he spoke, Blair's words dried up when he saw the look of shock on Steven's face. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeing the man's already pale face grow even whiter. Steven started to sway. Blair reached out a hand, afraid that the man was going to faint. "Steven?" 

Steven didn't acknowledge Blair's words, but stood staring intently down the path. Blair turned toward the direction of Steven's gaze and his own mouth fell open in surprise. "Oh my God!" he said hoarsely. 

Steven stood very still for another moment before he ran forward - straight into the open arms of Jim Ellison. 

\-------------------------------

The two men hugged fiercely before Jim held Steven out at arm's length. Their eyes met and both smiled widely before they hugged again. Blair felt his eyes tear up at the joyful reunion, and at the utter relief he felt seeing Jim alive. He knew that both he and Steven had seen the body, and now that Blair saw Jim in the flesh he knew immediately how they had mistaken the body they'd found for Jim's. The man before him intently hugging his brother was wearing a full set of camouflage fatigues, complete with hat and military boots. 

"Shit," Blair mumbled to himself, wiping away the wetness on his cheeks with the back of one hand. Embarrassed at the emotions that rushed through him, he turned away from the joyful reunion, feeling like an intruder, and stumbled away, hurrying as fast as he could. He'd go back to the compound. Yeah, that's what he'd do. His mother was waiting. He'd tell her the entire story, and share with her the happiness he felt when he saw Jim and Steven reunited. Stifling another sob, he stumbled over a tree root. 

Strong hands grabbed his arms from behind as he fell forward. "Sandburg!" 

Before Blair knew what was happening, he was spun around and enveloped in a strong embrace. "Blair," the strong voice said softly. "God, I was so worried about you!" 

Blair sniffled against the camo material and unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. Jim's arms tightened and Blair knew he was going to lose it when soft lips pressed against his temple. 

"Thank you," Jim whispered into his ear, kissing the skin below his lobe. 

"Sure, man," Blair said, hiccupping. "Glad it all worked out." 

Jim chuckled. "Me, too." 

Blair leaned against Jim's body for a moment, enjoying the feel of the strong chest against his, before he pulled away. "Sorry. I - I'm glad, too. I'd better go." He forced himself to walk backward a step or two, creating a small distance between them, before he had the courage to look into Jim's face, the face of the man he knew he loved. His gaze met Jim's and he gave a shaky smile. "Naomi - She's probably wondering..." He shrugged, waving a hand haphazardly into the air. 

Jim smiled and moved close again. He put a hand under Blair's elbow. "Come and sit down for a little while. We need to talk." 

Blair shook his head even while his feet moved forward at Jim's gentle tug. "Simon?" 

"He's a bit pissed." Jim chuckled again. "But he'll live." 

"What happened?" Blair asked, his eyes taking in the clothing Jim wore. 

"Let's go and sit down. I've been hiking around for hours, and I'm still not 100 percent, I'm afraid." 

Blair nodded, allowing Jim to guide him toward their companions, asking, "How's the arm?" 

"Much better. Thanks to you," Jim said, leaning toward Blair slightly and flashing him a warm smile full of affection. 

Blair swallowed at the intense emotion he saw and after clearing his throat, he said softly, "I saw the blood, Jim. On the porch at the old lodge. Last night, you were there." 

Jim shrugged, tightening his hold on Blair's arm. "I was looking for Steven. Unfortunately, I tripped in the dark and banged the arm. It started bleeding again, but it's okay now. I'm much better." 

Blair's mouth went dry at the intense look Jim gave him, along with a broad smile. "Cool," he said softly, making Jim laugh. Jim stopped before his brother and his friend, and releasing Blair's arm, he slipped the same arm around Blair's waist. 

Blair looked into Simon's stern face and blushed. "Sorry, man." 

Simon stepped closer and towered over Blair, glaring down. After a long moment, he grinned. "Apology accepted." 

Jim laughed. Steven and Simon joined in. 

Blair grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. "This is so great!" 

Jim nodded, reaching out to touch his brother's arm with his free hand before hooking the arm around Steven's neck. "Yes, it is." 

Steven's gaze found Jim's. "We found a body...." 

Simon grimaced. "He - That murderer was searching... We knew he was determined to find Jim, and we decided to waylay him." At Blair's raised eyebrow, Simon offered, "Jim heard him even though he was quite a ways away, so I waited on the path while Jim went ahead, laying a trail that anybody with half an eyeball could follow. When I nabbed him, he refused to stand down... It wasn't intentional, but he was determined. After I managed to kick away his rifle, he pulled a knife. It was self-defense." Simon sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We figured Jim would be a little harder to spot in the camo, not to mention the blood on his clothes might attract a bear or a cougar, so Jim changed clothes with the guy, then we buried him." 

"Sorry you had to find the body, Steven," Jim said softly. "It must have been a shock for both of you." The arm around Blair's waist tightened. 

Blair nodded. "It was awful." 

"No shit," Steven groused. "But I'm glad you're okay." Steven eyed Jim carefully. "More or less. You look like crap." 

Jim smiled. "Thanks, bro. You look wonderful, yourself." 

Simon glanced around. "Let's get out of here. We still have a murder to solve." 

The men followed Simon down the trail. Blair asked, "Where to?" 

Jim shrugged. "We need a place to regroup. Some place we can talk. We still need to figure out exactly what's going on, and why there are two men dead." 

Blair touched Jim's arm. "I think there's something up at the old mining camp over on the next ridge. I found plenty of footprints. None were very old; some from just a day or so ago." 

"Good work, Chief," Jim said, ruffling Blair's hair. "We'll check it out." 

Jim's casual words made Blair look intently at him. Blair had the distinct feeling that Jim already knew about the mining camp, and had, in fact, searched that area for Steven. Wondering what he wasn't being told, Blair shrugged and gave Jim a quick smile before he said firmly, "But first, you all need rest and a hot meal. It's been a rough couple of days for everybody. Not to mention I need to let Naomi know what's going on. She's probably wondering where I've gotten off to." 

Jim nodded slowly. "I want you to be safe, Sandburg. You need to head on back to the retreat." Blair started to protest, but Jim flashed him such a sweet smile, running a finger down his cheek that his thoughts were momentarily sidetracked by the flash of heat that scorched his insides. The smile made Blair's heart flip. Jim must have seen Blair's sudden flush, because he grinned and ruffled his hair. "After we make sure Blair gets safely back to the retreat, we need to discuss what happens next." 

"I want to help." 

"Sandburg, you're not a cop," Simon said testily. 

"Neither is Steven!" 

"True, but –” 

"Jim, please!" 

"No way, Chief. You're going back to the compound, and we'll take care of things out here." 

"That is not fair!" 

"Nevertheless, you're heading back." 

"Fine." Blair started to walk away, but Jim grabbed his coat sleeve. 

"Sandburg..." 

"What?" Blair said, shaking off the hand. 

"Listen, this is dangerous. I don't want you hurt!" 

"Think about it, man. You're sending me right into the middle of the hornet's nest! You know as well as I do that the people running the compound are right in the middle of this entire mess!" 

"I know! But your mother is back there right now! I think if they were going to do something to either of you, they'd have done it by now. You need to go back and if things are okay, in the morning you can both get safely away." 

Blair shuffled his foot before he nodded. "Yeah. I guess." 

"Chief?" 

Blair raised his face and looked into Jim's eyes. "Okay, Jim. But what if something happens? What if they've already figured out that I know about you and the rest of it?"

Steven joined the two men, with Simon right behind him. "He's right, Jim. If there's even a chance they know Blair's involved, he and his mother could be in danger." 

Jim rubbed his forehead. "Okay. Okay. Sandburg, you go back and play it cool. If you think they suspect anything, you and your mother get out of there immediately. Don't pack your stuff or anything; just head down the road to the highway and flag down the first car you see." 

"What about you?" Blair asked. 

"We're going to check out that mining camp you mentioned." 

"What aren't you telling me?" Blair demanded. "I think I deserve an answer." He looked from Simon to Jim and back again. Arms crossed, Blair glared. 

Simon pulled off his glasses. "Bank robbery." 

"Simon!" Jim exclaimed. 

Simon shrugged. "Sandburg's risked his life for all of us. He deserves to know." Turning to Blair, he explained, "About six or seven years ago, there was a big heist down in Portland. Five mil was never recovered. All old, unmarked bills." 

Steven nodded. "I remember reading about that." 

"The FBI said it was a team of three or four men, but there was never any sort of positive ID on the perps. They were completely covered so that even the video wasn't much help. Since it was outside Washington, we had alerts, of course, but it was an FBI matter anyway." 

"Could one of them been a woman?" Blair asked. 

"It's possible. They were all masked," Simon offered. 

"Makes sense," Jim said. "The camp would be a perfect place to stash the loot." 

"How about this?" Steven added. "When Jim and I had the bad luck to stumble into the murder, they were arguing. The dead guy was getting antsy. It's been six years and he wants his cut. He's waited long enough, and he's determined to get his share and take off. They argue. He's killed during the argument that you and I witnessed, bro." 

"That works as well as anything," Jim acknowledged. 

"So now they have a dead partner, and two witnesses." Simon glanced from one man to the other. "They shoot; Jim goes down. They nab Steven, who's just seen way too much, and hightail it out of there. But back at the retreat, they start to talk. They want to get rid of Steven, but maybe, just maybe, Jim's not dead. After all, in the heat of the moment, nobody went down to check the body. He might make it to the road. Somebody might find him and for all they know, the cops are heading toward them right that second. 

"So the next morning, they go back but when they get to the spot, he's gone. Since there's no body, they have to assume he's still alive. They can't take the chance that he'll somehow find his way out of the forest and alert the authorities, so they decide to keep Steven alive to use as hostage, figuring when they find Jim, they'll use Steven as bait or whatever. They've seen how upset Steven was when he thought he saw Jim killed. They know the men are at least friends, from Steven's reactions." Simon looked around at the nodding men. "So... They spend three days searching..." Simon paused before he said, "I kill one of the group, so now they're down to two..." 

"Three," Blair added. 

"Three?" Jim asked. 

"Yeah. Quinn, Emmet, and Lisa. She has to know." 

"Right." Steven nodded. "But she let me go." 

Jim shrugged. "Maybe she felt sorry for you, all tied up and bleeding." 

Steven grinned. "Maybe. I always did have a way with the ladies." 

Jim snorted. "Dork," he said affectionately to his brother. "Maybe she's okay with the robbery, but draws the line at killing. I've seen that happen more than once." 

"So now what?" Simon asked. 

Jim looked from one man to another. "Blair goes back and gets his mother out. He alerts the local authorities that we have a situation going down. Meanwhile, we find out if there's anything to this bank robbery thing, but either way, we bust these clowns for murder." 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Simon said with a cold smile while he flexed his hands into fists. "I love a good bust." 

\----------------------------------

"Sandburg!" 

Blair's eyes widened momentarily when he recognized the voice of Dawson Quinn. Glancing up, he saw the man standing on the front porch of the lodge, waving a hand. 

"Come on in. Your mother's waiting." 

Blair swallowed, and forced a smile to his lips. "Great." 

"Hungry?" Quinn asked, his eyes intently raking Blair's face and body. 

"Starving!" 

"There's food on the table. Ms. Sandburg's been worried about you." 

"I, ah, got lost. I'll just go and –” He waved toward his cabin. 

Quinn put his hands on his hips. "I think she's very upset." 

Blair sighed. He had no choice but to go in and play nice. He'd let Naomi know as soon as he could what had happened, and that they had to be ready to leave at first light. "What's for dinner?" Following Quinn across the porch and through the lodge to the dining room, Blair felt a trickle of cold sweat slip down his back. He tamped down the feeling of dread and grinned widely when his gaze found his mother's. 

"Blair! You're just in time." Her entire demeanor radiated banked energy. Her eyes asked a thousand questions, and offered another thousand more, but her tone was calm and collected. 

"Mr. Quinn said you were worried." Blair sat down and took a sip of cool water, glancing at his mother with a smile and a nod. 

"Nonsense. I was just saying I hoped you found your way back before dark. I know how you love to explore. But I still worry about you being eaten by some fierce creature!" 

Quinn hovered at the table. "Let me take your coat, Sandburg. The fire's pretty warm right now." 

"Thanks," Blair muttered, shrugging out of the jacket and holding it out for Quinn, who took it with a nod. He turned away and after tossing the jacket on a nearby coat rack, he turned back to his guests. 

"Enjoy your dinner." With a final brief glance, he quickly left. 

"Thank you, Mr. Quinn," Naomi said warmly at his retreating back. 

Blair watched Quinn's departure intently before he turned his attention to his mother. 

"Anything?" she asked quietly. Blair nodded. At her raised eyebrow, he smiled and gave his head a small shake. Naomi ate a bite of food before saying, "Me, too." With a wide yawn, she stretched her arms over her head. Making sure she spoke loud enough to be heard, she said, "I'm about ready to turn in! This clean mountain air makes me so sleepy. But it's much too early to sleep. What do you say when we finish, we go back to the cabin and meditate for a while?" 

"Sounds good," Blair said with a smile. "Maybe you can show me some new techniques from your latest trip to Nepal." 

Mother and son ate and chatted, finishing quickly before taking their leave. On the way back to their cabin, Blair gave Naomi the highlights of his encounters from the afternoon about finding Steven, and Jim and Steven's reunion. While Naomi closed and locked the door behind them, Blair shrugged out of his jacket that he'd retrieved from the coat rack on the way out of the lodge. Dropping it to the floor beside the bed, he held his breath when he heard a dull thunk. Yanking the jacket from the floor, he reached into the pocket and when he pulled out his hand, the forgotten knife lay in his palm. 

"What's that?" Naomi asked. 

"This is the knife that Simon took from the man who was searching for Jim. When we mistakenly thought Simon had hurt Jim, we jumped him. We found this in his pocket. Oh, shit." 

"What?" 

"Look." Blair held out the knife, which Naomi took from his shaking fingers. 

"It doesn't look like anything special. Oh, wait. There are initials engraved on the metal. WTR." 

"They know. Oh, God. They know that I know." 

"Blair, sweetie, you're not making any sense." 

"I haven't had a chance to tell you the rest of what happened. While Simon and Jim were searching for Steven, they discovered one of the men who'd shot Jim and taken Steven, searching for Jim. They waited and jumped the guy. Simon and the man fought; Simon killed him in self-defense. He took the guy's knife and I took it from Simon. I have Quinn's partner's knife in my pocket, and now he knows that I'm somehow involved. How else would I get his partner's knife?" 

"He could think you found it." 

"No way," Blair said softly. "It's too coincidental. I disappear into the mountains for a whole day and when I return, I have his partner's knife? He's not the sort to believe in coincidences." 

Naomi chewed her lower lip before she said, "Something was going on when I got back earlier today." 

"What?" 

"I went over to the main lodge to get some fresh tea. There were loud voices coming from Quinn's office. I could hear Lisa crying, and the men shouting at each other. They didn't know I'd come in, so I snuck over and listened." 

"Mom! That could have been dangerous!" 

Shrugging, Naomi continued, "Lisa said that one of the partners - Wade, she called him - hadn't come home at all during the night, and she was worried. She said something had happened to him, and that she was sure he was dead. She started sobbing and screamed at the men that Dale was already dead and now Wade was missing.

"Quinn shouted at her to shut up; that Wade wasn't dead, probably still hunting. He used the word "hunting", but what could he have been hunting during the night? I knew that he was out looking for Steven. Quinn yelled that now they had two men to find since she'd let "that one" escape. I heard him slap her and she started to sob. I heard Emmet tell Quinn to back off; then the men's voices were too low for me to hear anything else, especially over Lisa's sobs. I heard somebody touch the door knob, so I hurried outside. I waited until they left; then I went back inside where I found Lisa in the kitchen, sobbing her eyes out and holding an ice pack on her mouth.

"I must have said the right thing because she threw herself into my arms and cried her heart out. She told me the whole story. Wade Rooker and Dale Harvey, who was the first man killed, were Lisa's foster brothers; they were in on some big time bank robbery a while back, planned by Quinn and executed by the group. Quinn, Wade, Dale and Lisa pulled the heist, and Emmet drove the getaway car. They brought the money out here and hid it down an old mining shaft. The plan was to lay low for seven years. She said this was year six, and that Wade and Dale were getting anxious. Dale had some sort of cancer and needed the cash now, or he probably wouldn't live to get his share. Apparently, Dale, Lisa and Wade were on their way to the hiding place when Quinn and Emmet caught up with them on the logging road where Jim and Steven saw them." 

"Right! I found that place when I was looking for Steven! It's a perfect place to stash the goods." 

"Lisa is torn. She wants her share, and she's in love with Quinn, but she holds him responsible for Dale's death, and now that Wade is missing, his death also." 

"Do you have any idea what they're going to do now?" 

"I think they're going after the money. They've probably already left." 

"But they haven't - taken care of us. We know something's going on. We have to get out of here before they decide to clean up the loose ends." Blair paced the floor for a moment before he stopped and asked, "Did they say anything about Jim and Steven?" 

"No. Not a word. I don't think they'll take the time to look for them now, but if their paths should cross, I don't think it will be good. They were heavily armed." 

"Emmet didn't seem like the killing type." 

"Looks can be deceiving, Blair. Besides, with that much money, it's amazing what people will do. And we don't know it wasn't all an act. He could be as ruthless a killer as the rest of them." 

"Yeah," Blair agreed, running a hand through his hair, "I know. Listen. We have to get out of here. Now. It's too dangerous to wait until morning." 

Naomi's gaze searched her son's face before she nodded. "What shall we do?" 

"Leave everything but your personal identification, credit cards; that sort of thing that fits into your pockets. Put on good hiking boots and dress warmly. I'll get the flashlights." 

Naomi moved quickly. "I'm ready." She slipped a bottle of water into her pocket. 

"I love you, Mom. Sorry about the weekend." 

"Nonsense. This is the most excitement I've had since that tribe who'd never seen a red-headed woman wanted me to marry the chief and have lots of red-haired babies. They were so disappointed when I explained that my child-bearing years were behind me." 

Blair managed to let out a small laugh. "You're a brave woman." 

"And you are a wonderful son. Although sometimes you don't listen to a word I say." 

"Mom!" Blair whined. 

Together, in spite of the dire circumstances, they shared a laugh before slipping out of the cabin and carefully heading down the road toward the main highway. 

\--------------------------------

Blair stopped in the middle of the road. Naomi turned to him and asked, "Sweetie?" 

Shaking his head, Blair said softly, "I can't." 

"Blair?" 

"Jim... He needs me. I can't just - leave!" 

"But Blair, they have guns. They're cops. They can take care of themselves. Besides, you said that Jim ordered you to leave. He'll be very angry if you don't do as he requested." 

"No, Jim's hurt. Steven's not much better. Simon is only one man, and they have two handguns between them! If I know Quinn's type, he's loaded to the teeth!" 

Prophetically, the sounds of rifle fire echoed through the quiet evening. They both jumped. 

"Oh, God," Blair whispered, his hand flying to his mouth. "Jim!" Turning toward the sounds, he shuddered. "Automatic weapons. Jim doesn't stand a chance." 

Naomi latched onto Blair's coat sleeve. "What are you going to do?" she demanded. 

"I'm going to help him! I have to!" 

"You could be killed!" 

"You don't understand, and I don't have time to explain. I can't not do this! I just can't. The second I met him, I knew..." Blair's hands waved frantically. "I have to," he repeated emphatically. 

Naomi's fingers tightened on the material. "I'll come with you." 

"No! No way you're coming with me! You go to the road and find help. Send in the fucking National Guard if you have to!" Blair's eyes were frantic as he tugged on his sleeve. "Please, Mom!" he begged. 

Naomi's gaze raked over her son's face for a moment before she released her hold. Yanking Blair into her arms, they hugged fiercely for a moment before she nodded. 

With a small sniffle, Naomi moved back. "Go. Do what you can, but please be careful! And Blair..." At Naomi's hesitation, he stepped closer. She sniffled again before she added, "About Lisa. It's just a hunch, but... Don't trust that teary-eyed waif act. She's in love with Quinn, and I think she'll do anything for him. I know I would for the man I love. Be careful." 

"She seems..." Blair hesitated, seeing the adamant look in his mother's eyes. She was an excellent judge of character, and he trusted her, so instead of protesting, he glanced at the sky, asking, "Do you have your flashlight? The moon will be up soon, but until then, it will be dark. Please, Mom, please be careful!" 

"I will. I have my cell phone. I'll walk until I find help or the damned thing works. Go! I'll be okay." 

Blair hesitated for a brief second before he gave Naomi a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you, Mom." 

"You too, son." 

\---------------------------------

Blair felt a stab of guilt and fear when his mother turned to leave, but another round of gunfire sent his feet hurrying in the direction of the sounds. He hoped he made the mining camp before it was too late. He knew if he didn't get to the camp quickly, something terrible would happen, and that he would be devestated if it did. Blair didn't bother to analyze his feelings; he accepted them and didn't waste time arguing with himself. He had more important matters to attend to. Opening himself up totally, he followed the instincts that seemed to want to lead him to Jim... While he hurried along in the growing dark by the light of his flashlight, he let his body lead while his mind raced. 

Jim was special. He had special abilities. And he also knew without a doubt that he had a place in Jim's life, and vice versa. Again, he didn't question how he knew this information; he accepted it. Now, with Jim in jeopardy, he raced to help. How wasn't important, but doing so was. Blair snorted softly to himself. He'd never felt this way before. Felt that he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do - protect Jim Ellison. He'd examine this feeling later, when he and Jim were safely away from danger. When they could talk, and touch, and... 

Another burst of gunfire made Blair pull up short. He listened carefully, surprised that he could actually distinguish when a handgun was fired, and when a rifle did also. The rifles were automatics, he knew, hearing the staccato ring of their discharge. The answering pings of Jim and Simon's weapons sounded almost - pitiful compared to the power of the automatic fire. He moved quickly. 

\----------------------------

Stowing his flashlight in his pocket, Blair carefully skirted the mining camp. He knelt down behind an old, rusty truck that was sunk halfway into the earth and crawled on his belly until he could see into the camp. 

The old well shaft seemed to be the center of attention. Sitting on the ledge of the wall encircling the well were two large lanterns, which cast bright yellow light into the opening. Quinn stood a few feet away from the shaft with a rope wrapped around his arm and grasped in both hands. His feet were dug into the ground as though he was struggling to maintain his hold. Blair's gaze followed the rope from his hands to where it was wrapped around the spindle and disappeared into the mouth of the well. In the glare of the lamps, he could see the rope swinging slightly. Forcing his eyes away from the swaying rope, he could also see Quinn's mouth moving, seemingly muttering or cursing under his breath, his face red from the strain of the exertion. Blair bit down on his lip. Knowing that Quinn was probably thinking more about his take than whomever was at the other end of the rope made Blair start to sweat in spite of the cool night air. 

For a moment, he felt another sharp stab of fear spike when he realized that it could be Jim dangling God knows how many feet above the floor of the well. He'd heard water at the bottom when he'd dropped a pebble down it on that first day when he discovered it. Nobody could survive that kind of a drop. If the fall didn't kill them, drowning would. 

Blair shifted slightly when a movement from the far side of the encampment caught his attention. Near the entrance of the crumbling mining shaft paced Emmet, an automatic rifle held tensely in his hands. He kept glancing down at something at his feet, but from Blair's position, he couldn't see what held Emmet's attention. Blair carefully pushed back and after making sure he was hidden from view, he moved closer. When he had a better line of sight, he saw what Emmet was doing: he was standing over the bodies of two men. 

Blair almost cried out, sure that the man was hovering over two dead bodies. But reason interceded after a brief moment of panic. If what lay at Emmet's feet were dead bodies, he wouldn't be guarding them. And guarding was exactly what Emmet was doing. He felt a flood of relief when, from his hidden place, he saw one of the men move - the one closest to him, the one dressed in camouflage. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, he watched intently as the man turned his face toward where Blair lay hidden. The light that Emmet had attached to the end of his rifle cast a blindingly white glow on Jim's face, and his eyes were like huge blue lasers as they looked directly in Blair's direction. 

Blair's shivering intensified. Jim could see him. He used the fact to his advantage. Jim could hear him as well, Blair knew. All of the knowledge that Blair had acquired over the years about heightened senses flooded his brain. Jim was a Sentinel. He was special, and that might be what saved them all. 

Blair gathered his wits and forced his runaway emotions to settle down. Jim was still alive, and he had to do something to stop Quinn and his cronies before they changed that fact. He hadn't come this far to see Jim killed. In fact, he wouldn't allow it. After a moment, he huffed out a calming breath. "Jim, I'm coming." Blair sent the softly spoken words toward his Sentinel. Jim's eyes widened before they narrowed slightly, and he shook his head. Firmly, Blair repeated, "I'm coming. Be ready." 

He moved back to a more hidden position before inching himself around the perimeter of the camp; he had no choice but to move slowly, figuring it was better to take the extra time than risk being caught. His hand slipped into one of his jacket pockets, fingering the knife he'd stowed there on his way out of the cabin with Naomi earlier. The hard surface under his fingers was a comfort. He was glad he had it now; he was going to need it. 

Creeping toward where Jim lay, and making sure he didn't let Emmet hear or see his approach, seemed to take forever. When he made it behind Emmet, who still paced restlessly, occasionally shouting over at Quinn for a report on his progress, Blair wasn't quite sure how he was going to cross the few feet of open space between him and Emmet without either man seeing him and doing something horrible, like letting go of the rope or putting a bullet in the captives because of Blair's interference. Then the man who was at the end of that rope would be dead. 

Blair barely had time to take a breath when a loud snap echoed through the air. Freezing in place, he watched in horror as the spindle holding the rope suspended over the well broke in half, and the pieces dropped out of sight. The rope instantly dropped the weight of the man at the other end, making Quinn let out a surprised shout as the snap of the weight sharply pulled him forward. With his feet scrambling, he frantically tried to keep his balance, but in spite of digging in his heels, he was yanked toward the well. To Blair, it seemed as if Quinn moved in slow motion. 

Surprised that he was able to think clearly, Blair made his move with Emmet's attention momentarily distracted from his prisoners to the commotion at the well. He picked up a length of pipe and in two steps, was bashing Emmet on the back of the head. He stood over the man's prone body for a brief moment to be sure that he didn't move. When he was sure Emmet was unconscious, he tossed the pipe away with a grimace of distaste. Moving quickly, he flipped open the knife and in moments, had the ropes tying Jim's hands cut through. 

Jim took the knife and cut his feet free before quickly slitting his co-captive's bonds. That was when Blair realized that Steven was the other man tied up with Jim and that Simon was the one who had been forced into the well. 

Steven gave his brother a quick nod, rubbing his hands. 

Blair barely had a moment to glance toward Steven before Jim was up and moving. He was on his feet with the speed of a suddenly freed wild animal. Blair was awed by Jim's actions. 

Jim scooped up Emmet's rifle, raced forward and in mere seconds, had the barrel of the rifle pressed into Quinn's neck. 

"Bring him up!" Jim screamed. "Now!" Over his shoulder, he shouted, "Steven! Blair! Help him!" 

Both men rushed forward, grabbing the rope below where Quinn still had it wrapped around his arm and started to pull. 

"Simon!" Jim yelled. "You okay? Simon?" 

From the well, Simon's echoing voice reached Blair's ears. "Jim? Get me the hell out of here!" 

"Careful! Don't let the rope rub against the edge of the rocks too much or it will snap!" Jim said tensely. "Slow and careful!" 

The men pulled, arms straining at the dead weight of the large man hanging from the end. 

With the rifle Jim held, pointed at Quinn's head, he moved back a few inches to give the men room to maneuver. 

After what seemed to take forever to Blair, whose arms were starting to cramp from the effort, Simon's dark head emerged from the well. Simon threw one arm over the ledge. When he brought his other arm up, he tossed over a wet, dirty army duffel before he latched that arm onto the well's ledge. He hung there, panting with exertion. 

Jim yanked Quinn backward and shoved him to the ground, holding the gun on him while Steven and Blair helped Simon over the wall of the well, where they all fell into a pile in the dirt. There were a few moments of grunting and rolling around before the three men made it to their feet. 

"You okay?" Blair asked, eyeing Simon carefully. His face was scratched and dirty, and his hair and clothing were covered with mud and mossy residue from being dragged and banged against the walls of the well. 

"Great," Simon growled. 

"Cool. What's in the sack?" Blair asked, pointing at the equally dirty duffel that Simon had scooped from the ground. 

"The loot, apparently," Simon said derisively as he hurriedly untied the rope from around his waist. "They hid it inside one of the walls about thirty feet down." He rubbed a dirty hand in his equally dirty hair. "Asshole," he groused, glancing at Quinn, who lay in the mud at Jim's feet. 

Blair turned to glance down at Quinn. Suddenly, his mouth opened in agony. He tried to scream, but nothing emerged. He felt his body crash to the ground while searing pain ripped through his thigh. 

Gunfire rang out. Bullets hit the dirt around their feet, sending up sprays of rock and dirt. 

Jim shouted, turning toward Blair to grab his arm. 

Blair finally found his voice and let out a scream when Jim tugged on his arm, pain rippling through his entire body. Somebody grabbed his other arm and he felt himself being dragged. In moments, his world went dark. Unable to get his bearings, he was disoriented when he felt hard ground under his backside. Thinking he'd blacked out, Blair blinked furiously, rubbing a hand down his face. When the light flared, he cried out, covering his eyes. 

"Chief?" Jim asked, his tone a mix of fear and anger. "Stevie, shine that light on his leg." 

Blair laid his head back, his eyes closed, as he felt Jim's fingers probing his leg. He jerked and cried out. 

"Steady," Jim said softly. "I'm going to try to stop the bleeding. Sandburg, you still with me?" 

"Yeah," Blair gasped. "I can't believe I've been shot! God, Jim... It hurts!" 

"I know, buddy. Just stay calm." Blair kept his eyes closed while Jim wrapped something around his leg and tightened it. "Sorry," he said when Blair let out a yelp of pain. "It has to be tight. Simon?" 

Simon's voice came from Blair's left. He pried open his eyes and finally realized that they were in the old mining shaft. There were broken timbers and rusty rail tracks, and lots of dust. 

Simon joined them momentarily, dropping the sack he still carried. "It's the woman from the road; the one you described to me. She's the one who opened fire." 

"Great," Blair muttered. "That's just great." 

"Sandburg, you know her?" 

Blair nodded, grimacing. "Yeah, she's Quinn's girlfriend. She also grew up with the other two, Rooker and Harvey, the first guy they killed, in foster care. My mom said - Ah! Shit!" 

"What can I do, Jim?" Steven asked as he hunkered down beside Blair, his hand resting comfortingly on his arm. 

"We need to get out of here. He needs a hospital." 

"Come out now, or we're coming in! You have five seconds!" 

"Oh, crap," Steven groused. "We need to do something!" 

"Simon, give me a wad of that cash." 

"Why?" Simon asked, tossing a couple of the bound pack of bills to Jim.

Blair saw Jim's evil grin as he pulled a disposable lighter from his pocket and lit the edges of the money. When the paper started to burn brightly and tiny sparks of paper started to fall, he skittered to the mouth of the shaft and tossed it out. 

"That's twenty-five grand, Quinn! Every ten seconds, I'm tossing out another bundle until you clear out!" Jim shouted. After a few seconds, Jim must have tossed out another bundle of cash, because Blair heard him call out, "That's fifty!" 

"Okay! Stop. Let's make a deal!" 

"No deals, Quinn! Clear out now!" 

Silence fell from outside the cave. 

Blair watched with wide eyes in the direction of the tunnel's opening until Jim finally reappeared. "We need to get out of here. Sooner rather than later. Weapons?" he said, dropping to his knees beside Blair. 

Simon sighed, dropping the rifle he'd managed to grab on his way into the mine shaft. "The rifle's empty." 

Jim pulled his handgun that he'd retrieved from Emmet when Blair had first untied them. "I have one round." 

"Jim, man..." 

"Yeah, Chief. You doing okay?" 

"I'm all right. Use your senses. Can you tell if there's another way out of here?" 

Jim gave Blair a look of surprise before he slowly nodded. "Let me give it a try." 

"Focus, Jim. You should be able to feel air currents. Smell fresh air. Something..." 

Jim nodded. He rose and turned toward the dark tunnel. "I think..." He took a step forward. "Yes! I feel fresh air! Come on!" Jim reached down to help Blair to his feet. When he lifted the injured man, Blair cried out in pain. 

"Jim! He'll never make it," Simon said, his hand on Jim's arm. "You go! Go! We'll stay here until you find help." 

"Simon's right, Jim," Steven agreed. "You know you're faster without us. We'll be okay. Take the flashlight." 

Jim hesitated, looking from his brother's face to his friend's. He let out a sigh before he said, "I won't need it." He glanced into Blair's pain-filled eyes before he nodded toward him. "Take care of him." 

"Done, bro. Now go." Steven shoved Jim lightly. 

Jim grasped his brother's arm for a moment, and gave him a quick smile, before he turned away and melted into the dark. 

\--------------------------------------

"Sandburg!" Blair blinked when the deep voice niggled into his brain. "Don't fall asleep. Come on, stay awake. You're going into shock from blood loss." 

"Leave me alone," Blair slurred. Simon's words made sense; he knew he'd lost a lot of blood. He could almost feel it as it dripped from his body, and the feeling was terrifying, but he was powerless to stop it. He felt himself slipping away. 

"Blair!" Someone patted his face. "Come on, Blair. Jim will be really pissed if I let anything happen to you." 

"Steven?" 

"I'm right here." 

"Why didn't they send you down the hole? You're smaller and lighter than Simon." 

Steven shook his head. "They tried. I'm surprised they didn't put a bullet in me, but I couldn't... Claustrophobia. I guess even Quinn saw the panic in my eyes. I've never been able to handle small spaces, and that would have driven me over the edge. I hated that they made Simon do it in my place." 

"Why not Jim?" 

With a shrug, Steven answered, "Quinn didn't say. Other than he's an asshole, I have no idea." 

"Where's Jim?" 

"He's gone for help. Remember?" 

"Oh, yeah. Right." Blair grimaced with pain before he asked, "Simon, you ever been shot?" 

Simon grunted. "Yeah, once or twice." 

"Did it hurt?" 

"No. Well, ah, yeah," he finally admitted. "It hurt like hell." 

Blair let out a disgruntled sigh. "No shit." 

Steven put a hand on Blair's arm. "Shhh. They're up to someth - What the fuck?" 

From the mouth of the tunnel, thick smoke wafted toward the men. Simon grabbed Blair and shoved him to the ground. With Steven on his other side, both men threw an arm over Blair's shoulders. 

"Cover your mouth!" Simon yelled. 

Blair put a hand over his face, but the smoke was too thick. He started coughing; each time he coughed, the motion sent a stab of pain into his leg. "Can't..." 

Steven wheezed. "Me, neither... Simon, we can't stay in here!" 

Simon's eyes watered. "I know. Quinn! Quinn! We're coming out!" 

"Make it quick! I'm counting to three!"

Lifting Blair between them, Steven and Simon stumbled through the thick smoke into the cool night air, dragging the injured man with them. The three men choked and coughed when they finally emerged into the clean night air. 

With his eyes tearing from the irritating smoke, Blair blinked rapidly to clear his vision. When he was able to see, all he could do was watch helplessly as Quinn grabbed the duffel that dangled from Simon's left hand. He tossed the bag to lisa and she caught it with a wide smile. Slipping the straps over her arm and onto her shoulder, she maliciously poked Steven in the side with the barrel of her rifle. 

Quinn jammed his rifle's barrel into Simon's shoulder, grinning maliciously. "Not so smart now, are you?" Quinn said with a smirk. Turning to Blair, he shoved the barrel into Blair's leg, making him cry out in pain. "Hurts, doesn't it?" he prodded, shaking his head in mock sympathy. 

Blair blinked through his burning eyes at Quinn, but remained silent, tipping his chin up defiantly, making Quinn laugh. 

He waved the rifle at the three of them. "Drop him and get on your knees, hands behind your head. Emmet, make sure they behave." 

Emmet stepped forward, giving the men a haughty glare. While the man had survived Blair's attack, it was obvious that he wasn't doing very well. He stood with his feet spread as if his balance was unsteady, and when he held up his rifle, for a moment, he swayed before he steadied himself. It wasn't a surprise that he more than likely had a concussion from the blow he'd sustained. Blair studied Emmet for a moment, somewhat relieved that he hadn't killed the man, but hoping that he wouldn't regret that Emmet had survived his attack by killing any of his friends. 

Simon put a hand under Blair's arm and together, he and Steven tried to lower him to the ground as gently as possible. Blair grimaced when his leg was jostled, biting his lip fiercely to keep from crying out. 

Blair's gaze caught Lisa's. "You don't want to do this. You haven't killed anybody yet. I'm sure Simon would get you some sort of a deal –” 

Quinn shoved the rifle barrel into Blair's face. "Shut up." 

Before Blair could say anything else, there was a single gun shot from the edge of the camp, immediately followed by a huge explosion that ripped through the night, lighting the entire area with a blindingly white and red flash and knocking everyone still standing from their feet with its power. 

\--------------------------------

Everything happened so quickly, Blair barely had time to digest what was going on in front of his eyes. His brain wasn't working very well at all, so the scene unfolding before him seemed surreal. 

Pieces of burning wood rained down on the entire group. Blair absentmindedly brushed a piece of it from his pants as he sat on the ground. He watched Jim rush into the middle of the compound and leap onto Quinn. 

Simon crawled quickly over to drop his entire weight on top of Emmet. Blair was surprised that he could hear the air leave Emmet's body with a loud whoosh and as he watched, the man seemed to faint under the weight of Simon's body. 

Steven grabbed the nearest thing - another handy piece of pipe, and when Lisa started to rise, he smacked her across the knee. She fell to the ground with a scream, and held her knee between her hands, rocking with pain as tears coursed down her face. 

Jim and Quinn fought. They exchanged blows repeatedly. The thuds of flesh hitting flesh made Blair cringe. His fear for Jim's life spurred him into motion. He pulled himself to his feet and hopped on one leg, determined to get to Jim's side. 

Simon rose, and grabbed Blair's arm. With a glance, Blair conceded his position to Simon, knowing that Simon wouldn't let Jim do anything rash. Quinn was an evil man, and he was a criminal; a thief and a killer, but his death shouldn't weigh on Jim's conscience. In the heat of the moment, Jim was capable of killing Quinn. But later on... Blair knew Jim would regret his actions. 

Simon moved quickly. Blair watched Jim's face. Contorted in pent-up anger, Jim shoved Quinn to the ledge on the well's shaft and pushed his upper body over the open space. 

"Jim!" Simon cried. "Ellison!" he called again when Jim didn't respond, but continued to push on Quinn's torso. "He's not worth it!" 

Blair hopped toward Jim. "Jim, please... Hey, I need some help, man. I need somebody to go to the hospital with me. I'm really a big baby when it comes to hospitals. They scare the crap out of me. Jim?" 

Breathing heavily, Jim hesitated momentarily before he grabbed Quinn's coat and yanked him back from the shaft. With his hands clenched in the material, he shoved the man hard, pushing him down onto the ground. Rising, he gave Simon a curt nod before turning to Blair. Their eyes met. Blair gave him a small smile. Jim didn't return it, but moved quickly to Blair's side. His gaze intently examined Blair's pain-filled face and he said unnecessarily, "You need a hospital. You've been shot." 

Blair nodded. "No shit. You think you could maybe give a guy a hand?" He swayed, his good leg crumbling under the strain. 

Before he hit the ground, Jim scooped him up in one swift motion. "I've got you, Chief." 

Normally, Blair would have loudly protested Jim's actions, but he was in pain and so very tired. Jim's words were comforting, so he relaxed in the man's arms and let his head fall against Jim's shoulder. "I know," he whispered, closing his eyes. 

Not quite unconscious but still, not fully awake, he was vaguely aware of sounds and motion. From the periphery of his mind, he knew something was happening. He heard voices he recognized: Jim, Simon, and Steven. He felt himself being moved several times, and then he heard another welcome voice: his mother. Her soft hand caressed his face, and her gentle voice soothed him. He tried to speak to her, but the words refused to emerge. Finally, tired of fighting to stay awake, knowing that he was safe with Jim by his side, and also understanding that his mother would make sure Jim, Steven and Simon were taken care of, he let himself drift away. 

\----------------------------------

When Blair regained full consciousness, the first thing he saw was Jim Ellison asleep on the edge of his hospital bed with his head cradled on one arm and the other thrown across Blair's ankles. With a faint smile, Blair shifted minutely. 

"Jim?" he whispered. 

Jim jerked, raising his head. "Blair?" 

"Hey." 

"You're awake!" 

"So it seems," Blair answered. "Man, I feel like shit." 

Jim smiled, rubbing his eyes. "You had surgery yesterday morning. Everything went very well. You've been in and out for the past twelve hours, but the doc says you should be up and around on crutches in a few days." 

"I don't remember - Hey, wait! You're alive!" 

Jim chuckled, moving his chair closer to Blair so they could talk. "We're all alive, Chief. Thank God." 

"Steven? Simon?" 

"They're fine. And Quinn and company are locked up good and tight." 

"Good. I'm glad about that." Blair eyed Jim carefully. "How's the arm? And your head?" 

"I'm good." 

"Jim, man, you're driving me nuts here. What happened?" 

Jim smiled, and reached out, his hand lightly grasping Blair's lower arm. "I made it out of the mine shaft. Shot some old TNT. Tackled Quinn. Help came. End of story." 

Blair snorted softly. "Now why do I think there's more to the story - Jim!" Blair's hand reached out to grab Jim's wrist. 

"What?"

"My mom! I heard her! Was she there? Is she okay? Where is she? I felt her touch me!" 

"Relax, Sandburg. Relax." Jim soothingly rubbed Blair's hand that had latched onto his wrist. "You heard right. She was there. She brought the State Patrol and the County Sheriff, who in turn, alerted the FBI, the ATF and God knows how many other law enforcement and governmental agencies." Jim smiled and rubbed Blair's arm. "We even had helicopters. You don't remember?" 

"I remember hearing her, but... No. What else happened?" 

"You were dangling a thousand feet up in the rescue basket of a helicopter." 

"No way! I'd never let that happen!" 

Jim chuckled. "Yet it did. Apparently, you've conveniently forgotten the temper tantrum you pitched when they hoisted you away." 

"No wonder! I've been traumatized! I can't believe it," Blair groused, and then began to pout. "Where's my mom?" he asked plaintively. 

Jim snorted softly. "Don't worry. You know she wouldn't leave until she's spoken with you. She's just gone for a bite to eat down in the cafeteria with Simon and my brother. They'll be back soon enough." 

"They were bugging you." 

"What?" 

Blair smiled. "Sometimes, when you're... overwhelmed, too many people around makes you crazy." Jim grunted, making Blair chuckle. "I'll take that as a sign of agreement." Yawning, he shifted, then grimaced slightly. 

"Is your leg hurting?" 

"Yeah, a bit." 

"I'll get the duty nurse to check your meds. Then you need to sleep." 

"We need to talk, Jim. And I want details, man. That abbreviated story about what happened is not going to cut it, even if I do owe you my life." 

"You can thank your mother when you see her. She's the one who brought help just in time." 

"I seem to recall you and Simon and Steven doing pretty well on your own. But she's pretty cool, isn't she?" Blair asked, his eyes lighting up when he spoke of his mother. 

"Yes, she is." Jim grinned. 

Seeing Jim's spark of interest, he whined, "Hey! She's my mom!" 

Jim's grin widened, but with his hand over his heart, he teasingly added, "I swear, I didn't even notice she was a woman. Honest." 

Blair gave Jim a knowing smile. "It's okay. All the guys love Naomi." 

Jim's face became serious when he said softly, "Your mother's a beautiful woman, Chief, but she's not her son." 

"Oh! Well... Thanks, Jim." 

"For what?" 

"Saving my life." 

Jim shrugged. "You saved mine, too. So I'd say we're even." 

"I like that. Being even with you." 

"Me, too. It's kind of - nice." 

"Yeah," Blair agreed, yawning into his hand. 

"Sleep, Blair." 

"That's nice also." 

"What is?" Jim moved to the side of the bed and after carefully sitting on the edge of the mattress, he reached out and brushed a few of the stray curls from Blair's forehead. 

"Hearing you say my name before I fall asleep." 

"If you like - I mean, I could - I'd like to if you want –” 

Closing his eyes, Blair smiled. Jim's voice was tentative, but his intention was clear. "Oh, I definitely would like. And soon." With the sound of Jim's quiet chuckle echoing in his ears, he went to sleep. 

\------------------------------------

Epilogue

"So the trial starts in a couple of months." Blair set the platter down onto the table. "Dinner's ready." 

Jim snapped off the television. "It will be long, and we'll both be put through the wringer on the witness stand, but in the end, I think they'll all be going away for a very long time." Jim grinned. "Something smells great. It's nice of you to cook for me tonight." 

"It's just pot roast." Blair smiled. "Besides, you've been working non-stop for the past few weeks on the Beecher case. I figured you hadn't been eating very well." 

With a shrug, Jim said, "That's the way it goes sometimes in my job. And I seem to remember you being on a couple of those all-night stakeouts with me the last week or two." Blair returned Jim's shrug with one of his own, making Jim laugh. "You want beer or cola?"

"Iced tea?" 

"Done." Jim poured two glasses and after carrying them to the table, he set the drinks down before he lowered himself into his chair. "So... Have you made a decision?" 

"About?" Blair asked innocently, filling Jim's plate with a good-sized piece of the roast beef, along with plenty of carrots, onions and green beans. He added a helping of buttered noodles and then ladled on the creamy gravy. 

Jim picked up his fork, but didn't begin to eat right away. Instead, he looked a bit shy, and after fiddling with the fork for a few seconds, he stabbed a carrot. 

Blair hid a smile before he tasted the roast. "Hmmm. Good." Jim nodded, making Blair chuckle. "Sorry, man. You're just too easy." 

"You're teasing." 

"Well, yeah." 

Jim shook his head. "Sometimes you are so damned exasperating." 

"I know, but you love me anyway." 

After chewing a few green beans, he said firmly, "Yeah, I do." 

"Good, because my stuff is downstairs in my car as we speak." 

Jim's fork froze halfway to his mouth. Blair watched as drops of gravy fell from the food and hit the plate with tiny plops, splashing gravy onto the front of Jim's shirt. "What?" he whispered. 

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? I've decided to accept your offer. I'm moving in tonight." 

Jim set down his fork and after wiping his mouth on a napkin, he asked, "Into the - spare room?" 

Grinning, Blair shook his head. "Now who's teasing? No way, man. I'm taking over that king-sized bed in the loft bedroom. And if you're really, really good to me, I think there will be enough room for two. You have gravy on your shirt, Jim." 

Jim sat very still, staring at Blair for a long moment before he rose. He removed Blair's fork from his fingers and tugged on his arm until he stood. Standing chest to chest, Jim tipped back Blair's head and gently kissed Blair's lips. With a small moan, he pulled back and licked his own lips. "I can be good, Chief. I can be very, very good. I'm going to be so damned good to you that you're going to be the happiest partner a guy ever had. So good, in fact, that I doubt you'll be seeing the light of day for weeks." Jim's fingers skimmed Blair's chin and he tapped his lips with a long finger. "Maybe months, and you know what?" At Blair's wide-eyed head shake, he chuckled. "You'll love every second of it... starting now. And as for the gravy, I think it'll taste very nice when I lick it from your skin." 

"Jim!" Blair said with a whimper when Jim took one of Blair's hands and purposefully licked the end of one of his fingers. "What about - dinner?" he blurted out. 

Jim shrugged, tugging on Blair's hand. Leading him up the stairs, he said, "We've done the dating thing. I've sent you flowers. You've baked me cookies. I think tonight, we'll go straight to the lovin'. We'll have dinner later." 

Blair laughed. "It will be ruined by then." 

Laughing too, Jim pulled Blair across the room until they were standing beside the large bed. "You're much more appetizing than any dinner in the world. And I'm going to enjoy tasting every square inch." 

Pressing a hand to Jim's cheek, Blair said softly, "I'm all yours. Taste away."

Smiling, Jim tasted, nibbled, licked, bit and otherwise feasted on Blair's body until they were both fully sated. Lying in each other's arms in the afterglow of satisfying lovemaking, Jim ran his fingers through Blair's damp hair where it lay spread across his shoulders. 

"Say, Chief?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"You know what I want even more than one of your great dinners?"

"No, what?" 

"Tell me a story. Tell me the one about the spider." 

Laughing, Blair began his tale. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Blair's story is a true Native American tale. It has many variations but in all versions, the little spider is always victorious. 


End file.
